Old Stories
by Rokwynd
Summary: Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein.  
Title: Old Stories  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for both series.  
Fandom: Glee/Buffy crossover  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher, is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to Episode 22 of Glee. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

Graduation came and went in a blur for Dawn Summers. It was a rapid series of final exams, last-term-ever parties, packing her apartment, and finally walking on stage to receive her diploma. Now she was officially a college graduate with a bachelor's degree in Anthropology and Sociology. The true wonder of it all had been that it had taken only six years. After all, it's not like most colleges were predisposed to accept an apocalypse as a good reason to miss final exams. One day, she had promised herself after a grueling stint of make-up exams, she would find the reason the world always wanted to end in May. But that was something for the future. Right now she had to worry about the next big hurdle and goal of her adulthood: being a Watcher.

It should have been simple, really. She was an adult now—even by Buffy standards. Naturally she had assumed she would be a Watcher on the Council. To be fair, they had offered her a job: a desk job filing reports from various slayer teams. Even Andrew would have been able to recognize the hand of the senior Scoobies in this. Her situation was made even clearer by the constant denials, and no one—including Xander—being able to look her in the eye. She guessed they had expected her to resign herself to a long and "safe" career with the Watcher's Council filing reports and researching.

Dawn was curled up in one of the ancient armchairs in the Council's main office libraries in London. At present she was miserably immersed in a dry, dusty tome trying to find more information for Xander about a South American tribe with which he had recently made contact. He had called her up asking for her specifically to do the research, so lacking the fortitude to withstand his resolve face she was spending Friday night at work doing more research. The tribe was far more obscure than she imagined, so she sat in a light sweater and jeans diligently looking for the information for Xander as it creeped closer and closer to midnight. At least she had _tried_, but the soft clink of a mug and saucer woke her up after another "short" nap to find Giles sitting beside her in another overstuffed chair in the now-empty library.

Rupert Giles had changed in the years following Sunnydale and the attack by the First. If Dawn had to guess, he was probably in his mid-fifties and possibly creeping toward his sixties. This only went to prove age was just a number; despite the time he spent behind a desk, Giles was as athletic as ever. Dawn had seen him working out in the training room with younger slayers and able to out-technique them despite their super-strength, and he was quite capable of putting her through her paces in weekly workouts with the Watcher staff. True, he had a few more battle scars. But at this point, didn't they all?

Now his quiet eyes watched Dawn as she blinked her way into wakefulness. Putting the book aside with a casual thump on the floor, she couldn't hide her smile as Giles winced slightly. Dawn gave in, rescuing the book from the floor and placing it with exaggerated care on the end table with a quick eyebrow lift toward Giles as if to say, "Happy now?" Dawn relaxed into the chair and began to sip gently at the tea. It was sweet with a hint of spice, from his special reserve if she had to guess. They sat in a sort of expectant silence, as if the room were waiting for the next words. Dawn had decided to hold out. If Giles wanted to talk, she would wait until he was ready rather than go barging into a conversation.

Ten minutes later—a personal best as far as Dawn was concerned—she heard Giles sigh, remove his glasses and began polishing the lenses.

"I know this isn't exactly what you expected, Dawn," he began. "After all these years helping and fighting, now you feel like you are going to waste your time buried inside Council headquarters. No, don't try to deny it. I noticed it a few days after you arrived. In the end, I suppose we all fell into old patterns, protecting those we love the most. Especially considering what happened in Los Angeles..."

Giles trailed off a bit at that, thinking of the still-unknown fate of Angel and his teammates.

"So instead of thinking I could take care of myself, you, Buffy and the others decided little Dawnie couldn't handle herself no matter how many times she's been in the fight," Dawn said bitterly. "Tell me, Giles, what did I do it for? Why am I filing reports when I should be doing something? Hell, Giles, I could have used my degree to get my Masters, join a research program, even teach..."

"Why didn't you?" Giles asked, gently cutting her off. "True, you could have done all those things. And if you had, you would have been remarkably successful. Instead you chose to become a Watcher. Was it habit or something else?"

"Because," Dawn grumbled, "I'm not exactly normal. None of us are; we've all seen too much. Not to mention the whole Key issue."

Dawn stood up and began pacing back and forth. "I'm not stupid. I'm a bit of a demon magnet—not as bad as Xander, true—but I can't live just anywhere. I know I have to watch out for myself every second, waiting for the next wannabe Glory or something worse because of who my sister is. In the end it has to be the Council, unless I want a squad of Slayers shadowing me day and night."

Giles gave a start and looked a tiny bit embarrassed as she said this, but she soldiered on.

"I saw them around campus, no matter how much you and Buffy claimed they weren't there. There weren't many students living in my college apartments, but girls carrying stakes tend to stand out. Just remember, I still plan on finding out who covered part of my rent. There is no way I could have afforded my place on my own, but that's beside the point."

She started to tear up a bit then. Not much, but enough to piss her off. She hadn't gone on a crying jag like this since a few years out of Sunnydale when she turned eighteen.

"So now in a place I pretty much helped build and organize, being your on-call girl for research and end-of-the-world badness. All I do every day is _nothing_. I take the reports I get, put them in drawers and otherwise waste my time." The exasperation was making her voice raw. "What do you want from me, Giles? I can't live every day like a glass doll that needs to be protected. I need to do something to actually help. I love Buffy and all you guys, but I can't live the life you put in front of me and be satisfied. You wouldn't be satisfied wrapped in wool. None of you would! So why should I?"

"It is rather simple, Dawn," Giles said, a look of understanding on his face mixed with what might have been a smirk as he stood up from his chair to face her. "You shouldn't settle. In fact, I was waiting…letting you decide for yourself what you wanted. If you had been happy doing paperwork and filing, then you would have been my personal assistant."

Giles gently placed his hands on her shoulders his eyes bright.

"Unfortunately for me and luckily for him, Andrew will retain his current post. You, however, are ready for something much more important."

Dawn looked at him, still angrily wiping her eyes. "What are you talking about, Giles?"

Giles's look bloomed into that warm smile she had seen him give Buffy and the others but she herself had only rarely received from him, a mixture of pride and amusement.

"What I am talking about, Dawn, is that you have proven yourself to be an actual Watcher. Every potential Watcher goes through the same thing: empty paperwork and office gossip." He shrugged at this. "It helps me weed out those who want to do, and those who simply wish to speak."

"If it helps any," he conceded, "it almost pains me more than it does you lot, forced to wait for the ones with talent instead of family connections to wise up and realize they aren't happy. You are now ready; I have need of talented, well-rounded Watchers, and it is not a great stretch to call you qualified by any objective measure."

She hugged him, and as she breathed in the scent of him she felt him hug her back just as hard. Of course, immediately after he stepped back and tried to regain that British reserve he wore around the office—although the smile was still in his eyes as he handed her a heavy packet from inside his suit jacket.

"What the Council needs from you, Dawn Summers,"—the formal words spoiled by the warmth in his voice—"is for you to go on special assignment to the town of Lima, Ohio."

"Lima? Where the heck in Ohio is Lima?" Dawn began, but Giles's gently raised hand cut her off.

"Your mission is twofold. Officially your responsibility will be to establish a satellite office for the Cleveland Hellmouth Branch. This office will take reports for the main office and all supplies needed for a viable second front. In reality, though, this could have been handed off to any member of the Council. What I need from you is slightly more unofficial. I need to know why the town has no magic."

"No magic," Dawn replied, the bafflement and curiosity evident in her voice. "That close to a hellmouth, the town should be swimming in it."

"Indeed," replied Giles. "Yet except for an occasional vampire attack most likely caused by transient vampires, the town remains void of demonic influence and magic. I need to know why. We have sent other Watchers before, but they have uncovered nothing. All their prior reports are included inside your packet."

Dawn squeezed the packet with an involuntary motion of her hands. Quirking an eyebrow at Giles, she spoke archly. "So how do I know this isn't another way ship me off to safety?"

"Simple" Giles said, his brows crinkling a bit. "No Watcher who entered Lima recovered his magical talents after an extended stay in town. I've spoken to Willow and the Coven, and they believe your talents will endure: primarily a factor of your being the Key, or so they claim. That aside, I am sending you because you are the only Watcher in your age group possessing the necessary field experience and qualifications for the cover story provided."

Dawn looked inside the packet and pulled out a piece of letterhead with a red, white and black logo near the top beside the date and began reading. Apparently McKinley High School was glad to welcome her as the newest teacher in the sociology department for the fall semester of 2009. A few other details were included in the envelope, including the standard form letter wishing her good luck, a map of the campus, a faculty listing and a brochure for affordable housing.

"We'll talk details in the morning after you've had a chance to review the information in the packet," Giles continued, pretending to be oblivious to the look on Dawn's face. "For now I wish you a good night."

Giles walked out of the library, and even through her excitement Dawn could see the smile on the older man's face. After taking a moment for the necessary and proper Snoopy dance, Dawn commandeered a large table, spread out the contents of the file, and began to explore what made Lima, Ohio, so special.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein.  
Title: Old Stories (2/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for both series.  
Fandom: Glee/Buffy crossover  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher, is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to Episode 22 of Glee. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

Dawn drove her rental car down the busy streets of Cleveland. She kept looking back and forth between the GPS unit and the street addresses, trying to make them match. The GPS unit in her rental had given up twenty minutes ago, foiled either by user error or Willow's protective wards. (Naturally, Dawn decided it had to be the wards) She could read ancient Etruscan, but she couldn't find an address; somewhere, a Power was laughing at her. Buffy couldn't drive to save her life, and apparently Dawn had no sense of direction. Just more proof life wasn't fair on so many levels.

She would tell the others she found the school by herself and was just testing the all-seeing charm Willow had taught her. In reality, of course, she was jet-lagged, hungry, and in desperate need of a shower, so pride had became the temporary loser. Pulling over to the side of the road, she opened the packet Giles had given her in London. The packet was much thicker now, bulked up by all the necessary extra information such as travel arrangements, how her weapons and supplies would arrive—you know, the basics.

On an actual hemp notebook page Dawn found the revealing charm. Giving it a quick once-over, she closed her eyes and concentrated on feeling the slight pressure of magic sitting behind her eyes before she opened them. Pride came up and gave her a good kick in the ass; she was parked right across from her destination. Once again turning the ignition, she signaled to pull into traffic and made her way across the street, almost getting clipped by a SUV. It had to be the wards' fault, right?

She had arrived at the Jenny Calendar Academy for Gifted Girls—or as Dawn and most of the other Watchers and Scoobies called it, the Cleveland Hellmouth Branch. It looked like nothing more than a refurbished section of houses and properties. Rumor had it the property had belonged to the late and unlamented Quentin Travers. Now instead of serving as a vacation manor for the former head Watcher, it served as the center of American operations for the Watcher's Council.

Stopping in front of the the wrought iron gates she swiped her Council identity card and entered the pass-code she had been given. Almost at once she could hear the whirr of cameras locking onto her car. Reading not only her plate and VIN number but also checking for concealed weapons. Apparently she passed all scans since the gates opened and she could just make out several human shapes going back into hiding.

The approach to the Cleveland Branch main building looked like something out of a college brochure with its groups of female students spread out on the grounds studying or just hanging out. As she drove by Dawn caught glimpses of other scenes as the true seeing charm faded away The studying students were really working out, executing Katas or sparring with each other. While some on the Council disagreed with concealment magic, anyone would admit Willow did excellent work.

She parked in front of the school, nearly missing the stone fountain. She rolled back slightly off the raised bumps, which when triggered would unleash spiked tire strips every five feet or so. For an ordinary girls' school this was overkill, but the branch was designed to train Slayers. Part of that involved giving them a place to live and train, but it also required them to be able to protect themselves.

She still remembered the arguments about plans for the building on the bus out of Sunnydale. Buffy had been against it, saying the Slayers deserved normal lives. Xander agreed with her in principal but argued that by virtue of existing the Slayers would be targets. Xander ended up winning the fight, so every Slayer compound was the equivalent of an armed camp.

Within the first two years Xander was proven right, but despite his foresight and plans a lot of Slayers died when the demons realized the slayers were grouped in specific spots. The Coven and Willow had stepped in near the end, expending a great deal of power to create the concealment charms. Dawn herself was involved in a minor way: something about using some of her essence to protect the camps on a dimensional level.

Taking a moment to back away from the fountain and the memories, Dawn put her rental in a better space in the driveway. She started to ease out of the car, her muscles stiff from the drive, when someone shouted a greeting that made Dawn bang her head on the car's roof.

"Well, damn! Look who decided to finally get herself graduated!" said the voluminous voice with a trace of a Boston accent.

"Ow Son of a.." Dawn eased out gently while rubbing the top of her head, "Faith, long time no yell."

Faith gave a low, throaty laugh. She still wore her brunette hair long and still went in for tight clothes, but Faith seemed a little more relaxed than she had been in the hectic last days of Sunnydale.

"Nice to see you too, D. What do you say we head inside and grab a beer? I'll get you up to speed on the local situation, and you can tell me the latest gossip from Jolly Old England."

Dawn popped the trunk with the little key fob, and Faith reached in and grunted as she lifted Dawn's bags out of the trunk. Dawn winced a little in sympathy; the bags had all the books and things she couldn't trust to FedEx and had been barely able to get through customs. The charms she had used were big magic, but considering where she was going she might as well get it out of her system. Despite the weight of the bags, Faith shouldered them as if they were filled with feathers instead of huge, heavy ancient tomes on demonology.

Dawn just shook her head, letting Faith lead the way inside. With a half kick the doors slammed open. The younger woman couldn't help wincing as she saw the dents on the walls by the door; apparently this was still Faith's favorite way to open doors. The front desk was manned by a Slayer who seemed more interested in texting; Dawn didn't even see her look up when the doors slammed.

Faith looked at the girl and cleared her throat. When the girl still didn't respond, Faith tried one more time. Having failed to get her attention politely, Faith's arms, still weighed down by Dawn's luggage, reached in and snatched the phone out of the other Slayer's hand as quick as a snake bite. The now-phoneless slayer had just enough time to shout a feeble protest before Faith was staring her in the eyes. Her voice dropped to the low, predatory purr Dawn remembered from her youth.

"Wanna explain to me how I was able to barge in, arms full of bags, someone with me, and you didn't look up? Nah, trust me. Right now you really don't want to, and I don't want to hear it. I think you need a little time off desk duty. It's making you soft."

Faith tapped her finger against her chin in a pose that screamed mock pondering. The girl's eyes kept flicking between the finger and Faith's hard eyes, not sure where she could safely look. Faith kept this up for two minutes. The girl started to be lulled by the silence, and as the young Slayer subtly leaned back in her chair Faith slammed her hand on the counter, making everything on its surface rattle. Unfortunately the cellphone was also in that hand, and Dawn saw bits of plastic fly through the air.

Faith smiled lazily and gave a very insincere, "Oops."

Faith went on, her voice getting harder. "Here's what's going to happen. You're on disposal duty for the next two weeks. Lots of demon bodies to get rid of. It'll give you some time to toughen up again. Plus, I want you attending remedial sweep classes since you have issues paying attention."

Faith backed away slightly, reading the other Slayers body language and ready for a lunge or some other cheap hit. When the other girl just sat there gripping and cracking the arms of her chair, Faith nodded to herself.

"Talk to Rona after dinner and she'll reassign you. Tell her I sent you. For now, ring your relief and get the hell out of my office."

The Slayer hit a button that buzzed and another Slayer appeared shortly. The new Slayer, a young Asian girl, took in the desk and Faith's body language with a single glance. Moving quickly and quietly, she took a seat, straightening the stuff that had been knocked out of place. Apparently satisfied, Faith jerked her head toward Dawn and the two moved further into the compound.

They walked the hallways past the student dining hall and took a hard left toward the staff room. Once she had kicked the door shut behind them, Faith hopped over to the mini-bar. Dawn remembered it being labeled "Staff Stress Relief" on the blueprints when Xander had been working on the remodel. Faith popped two beers, passed Dawn one and motioned to a well-padded chair around a simple table. Leaning back in her chair, the brunette put her feet up on the table and began tapping the two bottle caps between her fingers.

"You came at a good time, kiddo," Faith began, somehow managing to sound businesslike despite the fact she was dancing the beer caps across her knuckles.

"The apocalypse this year was fairly mini. Some Herzog demons, a lot of pus and dead trees and gardens. But other than that, not too bad." She took a pull off her bottle and went on. "So the downside is some of the girls think it's the best time to slack off. Half my time is spent whipping them back into shape."

Faith gave an almost too casual shrug. "But hey, that's my problem, not yours. Let's talk turkey. What do you know about this town of yours?"

Dawn took a decent pull off her bottle, relishing the hoppy taste and glad it was lighter than the "proper English ales" she'd been drinking for the past month. As soon as the cool liquid went down she realized that as tired as she was, the beer might have been a bad idea. Her head was swimming a little, but the buzz was nice.

"I have all the basics, of course," Dawn said. "Population, industry, anything a half-assed Wikipedia search could get me. What I really need is an inside scoop on the town. I hate going in blind."

Faith sighed and popped a cap toward a nearby trashcan.

"Sorry, D. I got nada. I can't afford to send any of my people in. It gets tried every so often. We send a troublemaker or two down there, tell 'em to scout the place out. We figured it was a good way to show the wild Slayers a little humility."

Faith took a slower sip, her voice now serious. "I can't do it anymore, of course. It's such a damn waste. We send the girls in, and no matter how good they are if they spend more than two days in town it's like they went under the Cruciamentum. Except it doesn't wear off quick. One girl I sent, it took her like two years to get back up to full strength."

Dawn gave a wince as she swallowed off a bigger pull of beer than she had intended.

"Thanks, Faith. Bad news aside, it's good to know that much. Is everything else all taken care of?"

Faith waved her hand negligently and tossed the other cap in. "Yup. You got access to the accounts, and all the utilities and rent are being covered by the council. We'll pay them when you get paid to keep up appearances. Xander even sent up some stuff to decorate the place. He pretty much set the place up before he took off for South America again. So in my opinion as your superior, Watcher Junior is all set."

Dawn grinned and polished off the rest of the beer as they set to the serious business of gossip. A few hours and many beers later, Faith looked at her watch and gave a small snort of disbelief.

'Holy shit, when did I get so talkative?" Faith stretched and got out of the chair, snagging empties and tossing them at the recycling bin.

"Hate to do this to you, D, but I gotta crash. Tomorrow I take the newbies on a run, and I need my beauty sleep."

Dawn just grinned at Faith, the Summers curse of being a lightweight in full swing.

"Not a problem. My clock is still all screwed up from jetlag. Mind if I poke around the library until I crash?"

Faith just smiled and said, "No worries. _Mi casa es su casa_. Just be careful with some of the library computers. Vi's got some of them blocked off with some game her and Andrew keep getting into. It's a little geeky for me. But if the closest I have to be to that kid is him networking with our computers, I'm a happy Slayer. Oh, before I forget, let me have your car keys. I'll get one of the girls pull it around someplace a little less open."

Dawn reached into her pocket and lobbed the keys to Faith, who even after a full six pack managed to snag them out of the air with a casual snatch. With a slight wave Faith vanished inside the facility before Dawn moved on to the library. She poked around the branch's library until about three in the morning. She managed not to do any serious research, just hunt and peg articles to look at later. Before she crashed she sent an email to Buffy letting her know she had arrived safely in Cleveland.

Finally the combination of the alcohol and the flight caught up with her. She asked the Slayer on duty where her room was, and the girl was nice enough to show Dawn her room and then left without saying more than a quiet good night.

The next morning around nine Dawn woke up, grabbed a quick shower and walked downstairs to find the texting slayer from yesterday holding onto her bags.

"Miss Summers," she said in a quiet voice, "Ms. Lehane wanted me to help you with these and give you this." She handed Dawn a set of car keys she didn't recognize along with a note.

_"D,_

_Big Sis told me you might need some decent wheels. Inside is all the crap you need to get in your apartment, plus some extra goodies. We even programmed the GPS for you. Make sure you check the spare tire. The usual stuff is inside._

_F"_

Dawn walked outside, followed by the Slayer on duty, to find a silver 2009 Prius. If she had been alone she might have given a dance of joy, but instead she settled for an earsplitting smile. All in all she felt pretty good about her reaction. The car was pretty well tricked out. From what Dawn could tell, all the normal goodies and the spare tire (as promised) held the usual emergency kit: stakes, holy water, a crossbow, a small ax and a first aid kit. Dawn would have to shift some of that stuff around in case she ever needed a mechanic.

She opened the door and slipped into the seat. Once she had it adjusted she checked the GPS unit. A quick browse confirmed it was programmed with directions to Lima and a list of other locations. For now she decided to pick the destination labeled "Home" and roll out.

The GPS was right about the trip taking three hours, but the one thing it had left out was how absurdly boring a three-hour drive it would be. Driving south on I-75, she missed the quaint sights of English country roads. American roads had their own sights, of course: cars, trucks, billboards and roadkill. Thirty minutes outside of Lima she found herself passing through Beaverdam. She never knew what made her inner six year old stop and take a picture of the Beaverdam town sign. Probably a combination of a long drive and her iPod dying on her an hour into the drive.

The drive of infamy took a turn as Dawn drove over US-30. According to the GPS she had only about twenty miles of driving left before she reached Lima, so naturally that was when she finally found a decent radio station. Granted, it was classic rock. But it was still better than country or American Conservative political talk radio. Along with the music, Dawn experienced the Lima effect for the first time.

One of the bracelets she wore had been a gift from Willow when she graduated high school. It was woven wire of gold and silver that looked Celtic in design. Besides being pretty, it had been enchanted to detect vampires and demons. The charm felt very subtle considering what it could do. When she was around something wiggins-worthy the bracelet would grow steadily warmer.

It also had an extra feature about which Dawn had never told Buffy; the bracelet also allowed her to pop off a quick burst of flame if it got too warm. It had never been meant as a weapon according to Willow, but instead as a quick distraction so she could run. She never owned up to using it to dust a few vamps on purpose, but what her sister didn't know would save Dawn an earful.

Dawn could feel the bracelet begin to change before she realized what had happened. Before it had always felt slightly alive with the magic inside, but now it was just a pretty accessory. Once the bracelet "activated" Dawn felt the pull inside herself. The closest thing she could compare it to was when her appendix burst. In the memories created by the Monks this had happened, but in her logical mind this had never taken place. This mind accessed a stronger memory in its nine years of life, what she had felt on top of Glory's tower during the ritual before Buffy had...

"NO!" She snarled to herself as she pulled the car into the breakdown lane.

It was her bloody appendix bursting: that was the pain she felt. Of course she knew better, but it didn't matter. What was important was making the pain stop, not dwelling on the past. She closed her eyes and began the meditation Willow and the Coven had drilled into her before she'd left. She didn't know how long it took, but eventually she found what could be called the "leak."

Something was wrong. The power flowing out wasn't just her accumulated magic but rather the spell that secured her past. Her head rapidly filled with a welter of confusing memories. Being a toddler became being kidnapped by Harmony. Memories of her father, already vague, melted to become a twisted mix of Spike and Giles. A thousand other childhood memories threatened to burst like soap bubbles before she found the part of her that was The Key.

She actively hated this part of herself, this core of almost infinite energy that could break walls between dimensions. She found it hidden deep within like bait in a trap. Dawn gritted her mental teeth and took hold of the power. If the Key could open things, it could close them. This reasoning led Dawn to actively wrap the essence of the Key around her personal magics, which compared to the otherworldly green of the Key felt gray and muted.

When Dawn reopened her eyes a glance at her wristwatch told her she had lost two hours getting herself back in order. She felt as though she had run five miles—after sparring with Faith and Buffy when they were both pissed at each other. At this point Dawn could only hope the effect was permanent, but a dark part of her was laughing behind the back of her pounding skull.

Getting to her apartment had taken longer than she'd anticipated. One reason, of course, was driving carefully while bracing herself for another attack. The other was the GPS. For what it was worth, the little gadget was accurate; unfortunately, every listing marked "home" led either to a greasy diner, a rundown bar or a sex shop. It took her two hours to eliminate all the false bookmarks. Faith would have justified them as useful spots to find demons. Of course, since Lima had no demons it just gave Faith a chance to play one of her pranks. Later she would admit it was funny, but for now she focused on revenge as she worked out an elaborate plan involving paintballs, glitter and tinsel she found her apartment.

The apartment offered simple, low-budget housing priced to be affordable for educators. The complex held lots of single units and two-story townhouses. The council had arranged for Dawn to get a townhouse, which only made sense considering all the weapons and the like she would be secretly securing.

Signing in and getting her keys went by fairly quickly. The blue-haired secretary barely blinked as she had Dawn sign some forms and gave her the various forms concerning security deposits. All these forms ended up in the bottom of her bag to be taken care of at a much later date.

The unit was nondescript and wedged between two other units, the better to stop flanking assaults. A small, brown, postage stamp lawn formed the outside garden. The building itself was badly in need of paint. When she had first seen a picture of the apartment she had considered complaining until Giles reminded her about his place in Sunnydale. Compared to that place, this was a dream—though the interior paint was all done in shades of blue and green a bit too close to "Key green" for Dawn's tastes.

She made a quick sweep of the apartment and found cabinets and furniture custom designed by Xander. All the pieces looked scruffy enough to fit the requirements of a first year teacher but had removable pieces which could be used as weapons if necessary. Most of the pieces had hidden nooks to hide other pieces of contraband necessary to being a Watcher as well.

Satisfied all her stuff had arrived and was arranged in a reasonable manner, her only destination now was the queen sized bed in the upstairs bedroom. After a long drive and the leeching of her magic, all that was left was to show up for orientation week at McKinley High School. Compared to demons it shouldn't be that hard. Dawn set her alarm, crawled into bed and promptly shut off all thoughts of tomorrow.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein.  
Title: Old Stories (3/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for both series.  
Fandom: Glee/Buffy crossover  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher, is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to Episode 22 of Glee. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

A/N; Songs, pop culture references and the shows don't belong to me. Thanks to everyone for the reviews. And if you like, please review.

_The building was quiet, and her boots on the tiles made soft pats instead of the thumps to which she was accustomed. She was dressed in her patrol clothing: long brown duster, sturdy jeans and a silk shirt. She could feel the comforting heft of weapons, each one safely tucked in its usual place. She didn't recognize the building; all she could make out were long, featureless halls. She walked on, turning corners until she found a set of wide stairs. She felt compelled to climb something, as if something important waited at the top: a big day._

_The stairs changed as she began to climb. No longer wide, the stairs were rickety and metallic, sometimes becoming ladders. The building had changed into a tower. The wind threatened to throw her off, but she kept climbing. She was at the top when the tower shook again. Catching herself on a rail, she caught a glimpse of a figure behind her. The figure came closer and Dawn was backing up now. She was tied to a metal pole, struggling against her bonds when the knife came out..._

Dawn sat up gasping for breath, soaked through with clammy sweat. Her ears were pounding, and then she heard it: "Re-Education (Through Labor)" What the hell? Then it clicked as she looked at her bedside clock. Four a.m. Who the hell was calling her this early in the morning?

"Great," she muttered, stifling a yawn. "Cryptic dreams and early morning wake-up calls; this had better not be an omen."

She reached for the end table only to realize too late her phone wasn't on the nightstand; the music was coming from the general direction of her ass. A long, awkward moment later—during which she was thankful she lived alone so her stunt wouldn't end up on YouTube—she freed her phone from the tangle of sheets and pants before checking the Caller ID. _Of course._ She should have known.

"Buffy, you do know what time zones are for, don't you?" she half-grumbled into the phone.

"Of course I do." The voice of her sister sounded cheery even through the long distance line static. "It's the only time I know that your lazy ass will be at home and actually pick up your phone."

Lovely. It was going to be one of those calls. She needed coffee.

She yawned into the phone, putting a little force into it for dramatic effect, "Al right, you win. Give me a sec and I'm all yours."

Dawn popped into her attached bathroom and after a few minutes she felt closer to being alive and ready for a Summers lecture. Passing her bed, she snagged her phone and put it to her ear as she started making her way downstairs.

"So where are you calling me from today?" Dawn asked while bustling with her new coffee maker.

"Jakarta," Buffy said, as if it were right across town.

"You know that you have an eleven-hour lead on me, right? So, what? Calling me in the middle of _your_ afternoon seemed like an awesome idea?" She winced as that came out a little more bitchy than she'd intended.

"Don't blame me. You land in the States and all I get is a, 'Hey, I'm here' email. I had to call Faith to get the scoop on you," Buffy's snapped back, and Dawn could almost see her standing wherever she was with her hands on her hips. She probably already had clenched them into fists.

Dawn tried to hide the guilt in her voice. "Look, I'm sorry about that. Any chance we can blame that on jet lag?"

"Sure." The exasperation just oozed out of the receiver. "Did you like the car?"

"Yes, Buffy, the car is awesome." Dawn knew a peace offering when she heard one.

It's possible Buffy sighed, but Dawn couldn't tell through the phone static. "Dawn, I'm sorry I called too early. All I wanted to do, honestly, was wish you luck on your first day of school." Buffy paused and gave a short laugh, "That came out a little condescending, didn't it?"

Dawn gave an answering laugh. "Just a lot, but it's all good. How much time do you have to talk?"

"Actually this is about it. I have to get back to the dig site soon. I just wanted to touch base. Take care of yourself, you hear me?"

Dawn rolled her eyes at the phone. "Aye-aye, captain. Loud and clear. Hey, Buffy, thanks a lot. And I love you."

"Love ya too, Dawnie. Now go 'inspire young minds,' or however Giles put it. Call me next week. Bye."

Dawn managed to get in a quick good bye before the connection closed. She was up now, so she spent the rest of her time puttering around. By six she ran out of any reason to justifiably procrastinate and decided to bite the bullet and head in to work.

###############

Dawn Summers came to a horrible realization as she sat through Principal Figgins's welcome speech: Administrators and evil overlords sounded _exactly_ the same. The content varied, of course, what with less focus on the blood of virgins and more on the finer points of state and local education standards. Dawn tried to act as if she was paying attention; however, the early morning combined with the softness of Figgins's accent kept trying to lull her to sleep.

The most disturbing thing about the speech was how blase the principal was about most of the subject matter—except when it came to the matter of budgets. His eyes practically glowed when he went off on a tangent about academic success equaling more funds for the school. Dawn had to fight the urge to lean back in her chair and away from her new boss. He managed to change academic merit into a near religious experience. Once this fit passed, the rest of the welcome interview went about as Dawn expected.

Fine details were hammered out; she now had a classroom of her own. Granted, she had no office, but having a classroom was a big step. She shuffled through the paperwork and checklists the local teacher's union had sent her and saw everything seemed to be in order, so she rose from her seat and shook Figgins's hand. She took a moment to peek at her notes regarding her classroom and began the trek.

She found her classroom fifteen minutes later after going up to the wrong floor and having to hurry back downstairs. The classroom was small, but at least it had a whiteboard instead of a chalkboard. She set her bags down and started setting up the room.

Two hours later found her balancing awkwardly on a chair while trying to hang a motivational poster when a knock on her door almost sent her sprawling to the floor. She caught her balance on a cabinet just in the nick of time and thus looked only mildly spazzy. Reorienting herself, she turned toward the door with a scowl.

The guy standing at her door was young and kind of cute. Brown-blond hair, he was dressed in a blue long-sleeved dress shirt and black pants. When he lifted his hand to wave at her she saw him wince a little.

"Sorry about that," he said with a small laugh. "I'm Will Scheuster. I teach Spanish a little further down the hall and heard I had a new neighbor, so I came by to see if you wanted to grab lunch. A bunch of us are headed out." He held out his hand for her to shake.

Dawn walked over and completed the she shake with a smile. "Dawn Summers, this season's rookie. Sociology and anthropology." She let go of his hand and as she looked at his face she saw him wince a little more as he took in the room. "Whats up? I know it's not everyone's favorite field, but it's not _that_ bad." She followed his gaze. "Okay, yeah. I might have overdone it with the posters."

"No, no. It's very, um…" He searched for a word. "_Dedicated._ I just hope it drowns out some of the sound."

"The sound?" She lifted an eyebrow at him and cocked her hip. "Splainy, please."

He scrubbed the back of his neck. "Well, they call this hall the wind tunnel; choir room is pretty much across from you, and the way the auditorium is set up you can hear whenever any of the bands are practicing."

Despair was starting to do a jig in her stomach. "Are they any good at least?" she asked hopefully.

Will waffled his hand. "Some are better than others; all I can say is watch out for steel drum band day."

Dawn sighed. "Awesome. So anyway, where are we going for lunch?"

#####################

Dawn rode with Will and another woman, a petite-looking lady named Emma who introduced herself as the guidance counselor. Oddly, she didn't offer to shake Dawn's hand. The restaurant was a chain location of which Dawn had never heard. Breadstix offered Italian food but Dawn, after spending the last three years of high school in Rome, stuck to a salad. She wasn't normally a food snob, but some expectations were earned.

Dawn wasn't the only unusual diner, though. Emma came in the door with a nylon lunch bag and began to almost ritually set up her place at the table. Sneaking a look at the waitstaff and other teachers at the table nobody, Dawn saw, acted surprised. A little annoyed perhaps, but not surprised.

Lunch was a game of "meet the newbies," and since Dawn happened to be the only newbie her slightly wilted salad didn't get much attention. This probably was a good thing, so Dawn readily accepted the chance to talk about herself instead.

Her cover story she'd been using since college still applied in Lima. She had lived in Sunnydale before it collapsed. After the sinkhole she lived with her sister, who was a private security consultant for a British archaeological interest. Because of this she had lived in Europe, or when it came time to renew her passport and visas she would live with friends in the States. Easy enough: no need to mention Slayers or the Watcher's Council.

As for why she decided to teach in Lima, that had an easy answer as well. Dawn took refuge in techno babble and jargon as she explained how she wanted to study small-scale social structures in a high school setting and contrast them with the social structures of the town they inhabited. She could do that more easily in Lima due to population sizes and a fairly reliable ethnic population and blah blah blah. Predictably, most of the eyes around the table had assumed the polite glaze of those who neither understand nor care.

Dawn was preparing to wind down when Emma, who had been quietly polishing a grape with a sanitary wipe, piped up and began asking Dawn some fairly technical questions. For the rest of the meal Dawn and Emma kept up the shop talk as conversations drifted around them. Will would lean in and ask questions every now and then when he got too lost. To Dawn's surprise, also listening was the football coach who Will had introduced as Ken Tanaka. He wasn't listening to Dawn so much as watching and listening to Emma with something like a lost puppy look on his face.

Dawn noticed one other interesting thing during the ride back to school. When Will spoke Emma gave him her total, undivided attention. The professional in her as well as the gossip wondered if Will even knew, but she decided to keep her mouth shut. She just didn't know enough about these people. It briefly crossed her mind to order a background check on them when she realized both Will and Emma were asking her a question.

"Huh wha?" she said with great dignity. "Sorry, just processing today."

Will gave a slight chuckle. "I understand. You got a decent grilling at lunch. We just wanted to know if you've met Sue yet."

"And to warn you ahead of time if you haven't," Emma added.

"Isn't she the coach of the Cheerios and the athletic director?"

Will nodded. "Sue is that, and, well… She has an old fashioned way of looking at things."

Emma nodded in agreement, her eyes getting wider. "Sue has, well, a very definite opinion of the way the school should be."

Will shook his head. "She isn't that bad."

"Will, I have industrial cleansers less abrasive than Sue," Emma shot back primly but with an undercurrent of force.

Dawn had to admit she was surprised by the heat the small woman put in her voice. She held up her hands. "Calm down, guys." She smiled at both of them as she went on. "I appreciate the warning, but I don't Sue and I are going to have problems."

Emma muttered something that sounded like "famous last words."

"I plan on teaching my class and working on my paper. That's all the excitement I had in mind." Dawn tried sounding confident.

The ride ended after that, and both Will and Emma told Dawn to get in touch with them if she needed anything. Dawn thanked them and spent the remainder of the week before school doing all the normal pre-semester prep. Will had been good as his word and gave her the behind-the-scenes tour of McKinley, sharing with her the common hiding spots for students as well as the best ways to work the bureaucracy that was McKinley High.

During lunches Dawn, Will and Emma would talk about the school and students. Ken would occasionally throw in his two cents, usually building on what Emma said. Since Will had attended McKinley he was a good resource, if somewhat biased when it came to the school's former Glee Club. Emma's advice and outlook on the students seemed pretty sound. Both Will and Emma meant well and seemed to genuinely care about the students, but Dawn thought it best to reserve judgment since all of Emma's information came through a cleanliness filter.

The whole thing might have scarily approached perfect until the Friday before classes began. Dawn had finished a morning workout when the pain in her gut flared up again. This time instead of her memories twisting, her own body felt as though it were rebelling against her. Her hand was withering and drying out, and she could feel similar weakness in all her limbs. Not taking the time to focus herself, Dawn opened the mental gate she kept on her magic and opened the door.

The pain was intense as she essentially forged bits of her body back together on a molecular level with the force of the Key. She used its energy to lock herself back together at the cost of entwining herself further with the Key. A horrible move on her part, granted, but every bit on which she focused did eventually heal itself back to what she felt was the normal standard. Doing so at the end left her exhausted, so she spent the Friday before classes at home, citing food poisoning. Dawn spent most of the day on the phone with Willow trying to pick over whatever had gone wrong with the binding the Coven developed.

Eventually they agreed the most likely culprit was that the "Lima Effect" was a lot stronger than anticipated. Dawn would have to meditate daily and try to keep track of the damage to her system. Unspoken was the hope that Dawn would catch whatever was going to happen to her before it got to the point where she had to invoke Key energy. Personally, Dawn spent the time planning out points on Lima's map to investigate. After all, if she could figure out what was wrong with the town she wouldn't have to invoke the Key again.

Despite her plans, she didn't get out of the house. Any time she attempted to leave the house her head swam and her limbs joyfully let her know she wasn't yet done resting. On Sunday she felt almost human again and spent most of her time divided between reassuring practically every Scooby, Will and Emma that not only was she fine but that she would be teaching her classes on Monday. She was lying a little bit, safe in the knowledge none of the Scoobies were able to come into town. She did feel a little guilty about manipulating Emma's germ fear to keep her out, and Will had wanted to come and check but his wife Terri had forbidden it.

++++++  
Dawn's first week as an educator went by in a daze as she adjusted to actually seeing the school full of students and the fact that she was responsible for teaching them. McKinley, once filled, was far different than Dawn had imagined. It was hard to describe exactly, but the general feeling she got from the school was a sense of… coldness.

Students milled about and did traditional student things. The way they did them was at best absentmindedly, following a pattern but not caring about it. Older kids still bullied younger ones, and Dawn had learned about the McKinley special tradition of being "slushied." Being slushied was pretty much what it sounded like: make a slushie at the conveniently placed machine in the cafeteria, take the top off and toss it on the victim of your choice.

Dawn saw one take place between class and her lunch period. She had dropped some forms off at Emma's office when she saw a trio of three large jocks in letter jackets coasting down the hall. The trio was comprised of a large black kid, an equally large white kid and a kid with a mohawk. Was that a mohawk? She couldn't tell in the press of bodies.

Their victim was a brunette girl Dawn vaguely recognized from one of her classes, mainly because of the sweater and skirt combo she wore. Dawn was torn between finding the jocks and taking care of the girl, but her dilemma was solved by the girl running crying a little into the nearest bathroom as the bell rang. Dawn lost sight of the jocks and had no time to track them down since the halls were clearing out, and right then one letter jacket looked like another.

When she told her lunchtime crew what she'd seen, Will and Emma looked anything but shocked and Ken just snorted and mumbled something about kids being kids around his sub. As far as she could tell this kind of thing happened not just daily but hourly, following the extreme pecking order of McKinley High society.

"Let me see if i understand this" Dawn said with and edge in her voice, "Kids can go around the halls and dump corn syrup on each other and we do nothing about it?"

"We do want to do something, Dawn," Emma said apologetically. "But it's impossible to catch them at it. You saw what the kids who do. They travel in packs and the victims usually don't see them. Without an eyewitness, we can't do anything."

"I saw the kid toss the drink myself," Dawn reminded her.

"Did you?" Ken asked reasonably. "Or did the kid with the drink trip and the other kid get drenched by accident? The victim's not gonna speak out. If they do it could be worse than slushies. First rule of high school: don't be a snitch. Your word against theirs, and if you come on too strong and mommy or daddy give a damn you can be called out by Figgins on harassment."

Everything Ken said made sense, but Dawn couldn't help but notice how dead his eyes looked when he told her this. Dawn put the matter aside for now; she really didn't have a choice, but the girl's cry of shock and outrage was still ringing in Dawn's ears when she left school that afternoon and continued to be bothered so much that her lesson plan changed drastically.

"Mores," Dawn said, punctuating her statement with a slap of her ruler on the whiteboard where the same word was written.

"Also called folkways, they are the things society expects from you. Some mores are simple: don't blaspheme, don't steal, don't eat your French fries with salsa."

This got a small, halfhearted giggle.

"Others aren't so simple. Usually you don't know you've broken them until it's too late. Like the new kid in town who wears the baseball cap for the wrong team. Best case scenario, he gets enough grief that he takes it off and hides it. Worst case scenario, the hat is taken and damaged in some way. Or even worse, the kid is."

Dawn paced in front of her class with strong steady strides, looking each student in the eye.

"People who break mores, like our poor friend with the bad hat, can suffer different levels of punishment. You guys know this; you're in high school. What's cool and acceptable isn't spelled out. It just _is_. That might be acceptable for high school, but it's junk sociology. Like I've been telling you guys, the most important thing we cover in this class is why groups of people think like they do."

The class looked even numbers confused and interested. Dawn looked around the room and noticed the girl in the sweater and skirt from the other day. _Berry._ Yes, that was her name. Dawn hopped up on her desk and crossed her legs in her dress pants.

"Like I said in the syllabus, our goal is to examine McKinley and Lima. I'm the outsider, so teach me what I need to know to fit into this town."

Dawn handed stacks of paper to the students at the head of each aisle, and as they passed them behind she resumed speaking.

"Your assignment this week is to look at what it takes to make somebody cool at McKinley. When you list them out you're going to find quite a few are arbitrary and set up to punish one type or person or another instead of guiding things as a whole. I want five hundred words on why this is not only detrimental to McKinley High society but how it can be fixed. Remember folks, a bad more doesn't go away. It sticks around, making things worse. Find me the worst ones you can and tell me how to fix them."

Dawn gave that speech and variations of it in her classes the rest of the day. Her Intro to Sociology class was a sophomore requirement and assigning this wasn't going to make her popular, but if it helped her understand anything at McKinley it would be worth it. Plus, she couldn't be sure but she thought the brunette in the sweater had smiled a little.


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: Own nothing and no one used herein.  
Title: Old Stories (4/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: T  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for both series.  
Fandom: Glee/Buffy crossover  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher, is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to Episode 22 of Glee. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

Dawn went into school early the next morning and spent an hour training with practice weapons in the gym. She was still looking for a reputable dojo at which to work out, but for now this would do. Weapons training space had recently become a priority after the nice policeman decided not to take away her Taichung swords when she practiced in the park. Some early morning power walkers had called her in, saying they felt threatened. The officer had been nice enough, and it had probably helped that she had been wearing short shorts and a workout shirt. But a win was still a win!

After a quick shower in the girls' locker room she decided she looked presentable enough for school and, shouldering her bags, went to her classroom. It was six a.m. and some of the faculty were starting to trickle in. Dawn's hall was always the last one to fill up, giving her time to stash the weapons in her locked cabinet without any awkward questions. Turning her key in the lock, she stepped into the room.

Once, during a long night of drinking and remembering post-Sunnydale, the surviving Scoobies attempted to explain why the Powers That Be hated them so damn much. Some of it could be explained by actions the group had taken. Letting Willow live, bringing Buffy back from the dead: those things were fairly obvious. By unanimous consent, activating every potential on Earth as a Slayer might have been a step too far. This explained a lot of the big-time dramas, but the petty little acts of karma—well, the Powers just had to be bored.

Dawn reached for the light switch, still holding one of her practice blades in hand when she heard her desk chair squeak. Dawn spun around, leaving the lights off as she fell into a defensive stance.

"Easy there, She-Ra. No need for violence. I just want to talk," a confident female voice said from her desk.

Dawn recognized the short, cropped blond hair and the green and orange tracksuit as her eyes adjusted to the morning light. Dawn straightened a bit and loosened her grip on the sword, not letting it go.

"Really, Sue? People who want to talk to me usually _ask_ me first, not sit around in dark, locked rooms."

Sue leaned back in Dawn's chair and gave a Dawn a look that mingled pity and contempt.

"Obviously you never attended a workplace behavior seminar with one John Bolton."

"And yet we come back to why the hell you're in my room. You have a nice office, Sue. Or so I hear. Why couldn't we talk there?" Dawn unlocked her cabinet and put the practice blade inside, turning her back on Sue. Childish, yes. But it was way too early, so she felt she had an excuse for melodrama.

Sue stood up and without a hint of fear in her eyes strode up to Dawn.

"What we need to talk about, Summers, is better discussed where the problems are. My office is for professionals."

"Professionals? Look, never mind. Sue, what do you need to talk about so I can make you go away?" She didn't even try to hide the exasperation in her voice.

"Your so-called assignment and the chaos it is wrecking in my school."

Dawn stared at Sue. "Excuse me?"

"I mean it, Summers. You're new to this, so let me fill you in. In every high school there's a pecking order. But you're like a force-fed goose: stuffed full of all kinds of touchy-feely nonsense. And while that makes a delicious foie grois, it does not make you a teacher."

Dawn watched Sue's eyes. They were hard but for a moment, but there was a glimmer of something there.

"You're probably trying your best, but education isn't a discussion. It's maintenance. The system works as long as all the parts are kept in line and do what they're supposed to do. They come in, they play sports and they move on."

"You want to treat them like zombies," Dawn shot back.

Sue's voice was insultingly reasonable. "They _are_ zombies. Disgusting, hormone-filled, acne-covered meat sacks. Because of this simple fact the system works. That is, it works until someone comes along and demands they start navel gazing instead of following along. It makes things not work, which makes the hive uncomfortable. And then things go bad and we have to fix it."

Dawn folded her arms across her chest. "If you're worried about your Cheerios not being able to do the assignment, I don't care. It's a valid lesson and my decision stands."

Sue clapped a hand firmly on Dawn's shoulder.

"Of course it does, kiddo; that's why I am going to talk to Figgins and get all my Cheerios and the other worthy athletes exempted from this madness. You go ahead and have the remnants do the work, but my guess is once they see the alpha students not doing it they'll follow along like the good little herd animals they are."

Dawn reached up and firmly removed Sue's hand from her shoulder. "A few problems, Sue. One: you are _insane_. Two: pick a damn metaphor. The way you jump around makes your point even crazier. And three: if the kids don't do the work, they don't get the credit."

By now the room was filled with early morning sunlight, and the way the sun fell placed a translucent barrier between Dawn and Sue. Sue snorted and walked right through the shaft of sunlight.

"Keep dreaming, kiddo. You'll understand soon. See you in the meeting." Sue looked around the room with an appraising eye, taking in all the posters. "I never noticed it before, but no wonder you're delusional. I think I might wretch out rainbow bile, given how aggressively optimistic this room is."

With that Sue strode out of the room and slammed the door.

###########

"I can't believe she thinks she can get away with this!" Dawn fumed, storming into Emma's office and plopping down in a chair.

Emma didn't say anything, instead taking a moment to look at Dawn. Sighing, she got out of her chair and closed the office door. Taking a seat, she placed her hands on her desk in what Dawn had to assume was her Guidance Counselor's stance and began to speak.

"Judging from the look on your face, I assume that 'she' is Sue. What happened?"

Dawn told her about the confrontation in her classroom and the threat of a meeting in Figgins's office.

"I thought she was crazy, so I agreed to the meeting." Dawn gave a small snort. "Tell me I'm not for doing this."

"Crazy isn't the first word I would choose," Emma hedged as she scrubbed nervously at the desk with a moist towelette.

Dawn gave the red head an even glance, then shook her head a little.

"Okay, fine. Taking crazy off the table for the moment, it looks like I only have two options: cancel the assignment and let Sue win, or argue with Figgins and hope he'll see reason."

Emma's eyes widened skeptically, and Dawn couldn't hold back a laugh. "Yep, that's about what I expected."

"You could always talk to Will," Emma suggested quietly.

"I'll hit him up over lunch," Dawn promised Emma.

As she got up from her chair, Dawn smiled at Emma. "Thanks for putting up with my freak out. I didn't mean to toss all my crap on top of yours."

"Don't worry about it. If it makes you feel any better, I hope you win. I would love to see Sue taken down a notch."

Dawn gave her a fierce grin and was about to say something else when a student appeared outside Emma's office window. It was the Berry girl and she was crying. Dawn quietly excused herself as the girl kept going on about something creepy and obscene. It sounded like something in which she shouldn't be involved.

Lunchtime found Dawn sitting at the usual table sipping at a cup of poorly microwaved tea. It was just a sign of what kind of day it was that the coffee maker had walked away from the break room. She had to admit, though, it was sort of fun watching Ken and Will complain about it.

As she turned back to her latest batch of quizzes, Sue came striding into the room dressed in a black tracksuit with white stripes. Dawn mostly tuned her out as the coach gifted java among the masses. She was tempted to snatch one for herself, but taking something from Sue felt dirty. Dawn looked up as Emma walked in and the two shared a smile, though Dawn did perk up when Emma mentioned the Cheerios were $600 over budget. _What the hell was up with this school?_ Dawn wondered for what was not the first time.

As Sue strode out of the room babbling about a phone interview, Dawn turned to the sanitary be-gloved Emma. "I think most of her budget goes to track suits," she whispered. "She had a different one on when she was stalking me in my classroom."

Admittedly it was a very high school thing to do, but the quick flash of a smile she got from Emma made her feel a little better. Dawn tried sipping at her tea, but now that it had gone stone cold the idea of nuking it again was beyond her. She began to gather her things and made a motion as if to get up from her seat when out of the corner of her eye she saw Ken closing in on the table—or, more specifically, Emma. The guidance counselor's nervous glance nailed Dawn to her seat; after all, playing buffer between Ken and Emma was only good sisterly karma.

Dawn did her best to smile throughout the exchange of lame dodges Emma was trying to use on a clueless Ken. She almost felt bad for the guy, but she wished he would take a hint. She said nothing and stared at her cold cup of tea. While tea leaf reading wasn't something at which she was remotely good, if this conversation kept going the way it did she would be an expert in record time.

Will's presence at the table saved everyone as Dawn saw Emma's attention refocus on the Spanish teacher. His comment about "someone for everyone" was innocent enough, but Dawn wanted to groan as Emma's face lit up even more. She was about to make some excuse to leave when the topic came up that would change Dawn's life in Lima.

"Hey, did you hear that Sandy Ryerson got fired?" Emma asked while she prepped her next stage of mealtime cleaning.

Dawn and Ken looked up, mildly interested. But when Dawn looked at Will's face he looked as though he had been pole axed.

"Really?" he asked, open mouthed to a mild affirmative from Emma.

Will was almost bouncing in his seat. "W-whos gonna take over Glee Club?"

"Dunno," Emma replied with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

Lunch finished up pretty quickly from that point on. Dawn arranged for Will to come by her room after school to talk about her Sue problem, but it seemed he agreed out of habit of being polite; his mind was obviously somewhere else. Ken strode off to his next class, leaving Dawn and Emma alone in the staff lounge.

Dawn eyed Emma askance. Maybe it was time to have that talk with the love-struck counselor.

"I hope you know what you're doing," she murmured quietly to Emma. "After all, he _is_ married."

Emma did a credible job of looking confused for all of five seconds before she sighed and hung her head. Dawn took pity on her. "I get it. Well, kind of. And considering your other option is Ken, I _really_ get it. But sweetie, Will is severely hands off."

Instead of putting a hand on Emma's, which would have freaked Emma out to the point of scrubbing with bleach, Dawn settled for giving her what she hoped was a comforting and supportive look.

"I won't tell him or anything, but for what it's worth I'm here for you if it goes bad"

Emma gave Dawn a quiet thank you and quickly got up from the table, leaving Dawn alone.

#################

After school Dawn and Will were in her classroom rearranging the posters on her walls. The original plan had been to find a solution for her Sue problem, but instead Will was bursting with a different excitement as he kept talking about the school's Glee Club. Dawn was happy he had found something about which to be passionate, but as he told her about the deal he had worked out with Figgins something didn't seem right.

"Figgins wants you to pay out of your pocket to keep a school club open?" she asked incredulously while putting sticky tack on the back of a poster of Talcott Parsons. "How are you going to explain that to Terri?"

Will tried to look confident. "Teri won't mind. She'll understand."

Dawn rolled her eyes. "Sure she will. And I have a magic unicorn that grades my exams for me in my cabinet. Can you hand me that picture to your right?"

Will obliged, looking at her. Dawn could tell she wasn't going to like what happened next.

"Didn't you dance in college?" he asked way too casually.

"Yeah, I minored in it. Mostly for the exercise." She hopped off her chair and, as she balanced out realization hit her. "Oh no."

"Come on, Dawn. It would be awesome. You can get involved and help some kids out who need it." He was actually giving her puppy dog eyes.

Dawn tried to stay strong; after all, this had nothing on Resolve Face.

"Well, for one, I can't sing. And I mostly danced ballet. Not much use in a big show group. Plus, I don't have the time right now with this Sue thing champing at my heels."

To his credit, he did wince a little at that.

"I honestly get that, and like I said, I promise to help you. Even if you won't help me lead the club, can you sit through auditions? It would really help to have a second opinion."

Dammit, she was going to break.

"Okay, fine. I'll help you with your auditions. But no more, mister!" she said, wagging a finger in his face.

"Excellent," he laughed as he swept her into a hug. Then he quickly released her, his face flaming. "Sorry."

"No problem," she said, straightening out her clothes and trying to hide her own blush. "Look, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Thanks for the help with the room."

She pushed him out the door without looking at his face, pretending she didn't hear him apologizing. Dawn took some time to restore her room into a state closer to order and decided today was far too weird to remain in this building. Home was looking better by the second.

##############

Once home and safe from the weirdness, she took time to pour herself a medicinal glass of scotch and settle into a night of trashy TV. Some poor soul was getting harassed by a group of women about something when she finally decided this was exactly what she needed: a night away from patrolling this bizarre little town or trying to meditate her way into another useless trance. After the events of today, she really wanted a quiet night.

_Against the darkness she saw pinpricks of light like fireflies—so many she couldn't count them as they dipped and bobbed in the dark. One moment a single spark in the air, the next there were a multitude. The light they gave off was soft, like candlelight. The world was painted in bold, aggressive colors, harsh and angry reds and blacks, fearsome yellows and depressive blues._

_The lights flitted around the emotional swamp, single sparks snatched out of the air and consumed. Where the lights gathered in clumps they fared better, the weak light holding the murk. They might have survived until other colors rushed in, overwhelming them. Dawn found herself wanting to urge the sparks together, to make them safe._

_She couldn't speak, and in the chaos there was no time for the sparks to realize their potential. So she watched as light after light went dark and the morass grew. The light was almost gone, and now the darkness was creeping in on her. It grew on her like tarnish. Right before her head was overtaken she gasped awake, and in the back of her mind she heard the hollow voice of The Key._

_"__**Gather them**__."_


	5. Chapter 5

Title: Old Stories (5/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings both series for now  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee

Dawn sat on her sofa staring off into space, reflecting on her sanity or perhaps the lack thereof. That level of soul searching would result in most people making appointments or popping various pills. Over the years Dawn and her extended family had gotten so used to visions in one form or another that it was pretty much normal.

Instead, as she mentally checked off vital facts like who the president was and which Peanuts character was her favorite (Peppermint Patty), the facts seemed to match up and, any jokes to the contrary, she had to consider herself sane for now. Sanity was an important thing, but it didn't help her figure out about what exactly her vision was. Dawn paced around her living room, doing her best to explain away the actual source of her vision.

She ruled out drugs right up front; granted, she did have some stuff for spirit trances on hand, but the locked safe that held them was still hidden behind the cabinet in which she'd hidden it. She wasn't a Slayer, and the lack of blinding pain probably ruled out her vision being directly from the Powers. Current issues aside, she was more than grateful the Powers had decided not to turn her into their own personal satellite dish.

She knew the answer if she would stop bullshitting and own up to it. The voice in the vision was the same voice she'd heard when she had first entered Lima; it was her voice but changed somehow. There was no doubt her visions were coming from the Key. Even though she had owned up to this knowledge, she had no bloody idea what to do with it.

On a logical level she knew she was the Key—or, more accurately, a container for the Key. Hell, if it hadn't existed inside of her she wouldn't have existed when she technically turned fourteen. Among her friends it had been the year everyone wanted to forget: Mom had died, Tara had been mind raped by Glory, and most importantly Buffy had died.

For Dawn it was also the year all of her choices had been ripped away from her, which was astonishing considering she'd had none before that year. She remembered making minor choices before that year, but all those choices had never happened. When Dawn looked back on her first year she recalled losing any choice, even the choice of taking responsibility.

Buffy had taken responsibility for Dawn after Mom's death. This only made sense, but on top of the tower as the world ripped itself open around her Dawn had wanted to be responsible for fixing things, ending the lie that had hurt her friends. Instead Buffy had jumped, shouldering the weight of Dawn's choices—hell, her very _existence_—as she fell through the air.

Dawn, really had only one choice to make after that: to be the real girl for whom her sister had died. Instead of learning more about the Key, Dawn buried it deep, trusting in the power of denial to keep her normal. For the most part her plan, such as it was, had worked; all her extended family treated her as Buffy's younger sister. On a purely human level this was irritating, but it was far more welcome than defining her existence as a mystical entity.

Even when Buffy came back from the dead, Dawn kept to her decision. She was the Nibblet, and later on a thief, but through it all she had been as normal as Sunnydale would let her. The only time this had come close to crashing down around her, appropriately enough, was at the hands of one of her sister's friends.

It had almost come apart in the waiting room of the black magic dealer Rack. Willow was grieving for Tara, and Dawn had made the choice to find her: stupid in retrospect, but Dawn's judgment had been torn to hell and back thanks to finding Tara's dead body. So while Buffy rushed around trying to deal with things the way she normally did, Dawn had conned the friendly demon Clem into helping her find Rack. When she had located Willow the witch had been mere seconds from shattering Dawn's facade like cheap pottery.

All these years later she had that same feeling of her sense of self being close to breaking. Pride was the problem, as she had assumed her choices mattered. She had jumped at the chance to be a Watcher in Lima. True, Giles had told her she was the only one who could do it; but she had been so overjoyed she forgot to consider the risks. The others couldn't go because they we so dependent on magic, but Dawn believed _she_ was different. Dawn had let herself believe just for a moment that if she thought she was human hard enough, it would be true.

Dawn poured and quickly downed a glass of scotch, embracing the burn. It was kind of funny she had run so far from the Key, yet when the spell that gave her existence started to crumble she dove headfirst into the protection it offered her. She had finally gotten a chance to make her own powerful choice and she had jumped right into it. Maybe these visions were the consequences.

She was really a Scooby now, no foresight worth mentioning but hindsight that looked back years. So now she was in this town, the Key keeping her together and until tonight asking nothing more. Granted, she had no idea what it wanted. But the fact it wanted something was seriously disturbing. She reached for the bottle of scotch as if on autopilot and forced her hands to pick up a book instead. Drinking anything else tonight wouldn't help her figure out what was happening to her.

Two hours later found her not even skimming the books; she was wallowing too much to get anything useful done. She was half-drunk and scared out of her mind. What she should do is get in touch with Giles or Willow and let them know what was going on. Instead she decided to wait, telling herself it was because she wanted to be sober for the call. But in her heart of hearts she knew she was just scared.

Something resembling maturity kicked in, reminding her she had a job to do in the morning. She stacked the books into manageable piles to avoid looking like a crazy person, drank a glass of water and got ready for a too-short night of bed. These little things wouldn't help much, but at least the water might help her avoid the hangover she would feel in the morning.

True to her own predictions, she had woken up with a mild hangover and decided to skip her morning workout. Driving to work, she thought again about Giles and Willow. But it wasn't as if the two could sweep in and rescue her. If she didn't have anything for them, they would be as blind as she was. Besides, she wanted to do this herself; she felt she had a little room before the pride would earn her a nice, juicy fall.

Dawn gave up the ghost on actually teaching anything in class that morning and pulled out a handy stack of worksheets to accompany one of her emergency videos. Yes, it was a cheap move, but she didn't have the mental energy for anything else right now. She let the kids quietly chat and ignore the film while she sat at her desk, brooding and going through the motions. Sometime before her class before lunch let out she leaned her head on her arms and shut her eyes, trying to puzzle out the images from her vision.

Now sober and removed from her panicked apartment, she remembered the little sparks of light flicking around the brightly colored swamp. Instead of focusing on her vision, though, the lack of sleep had apparently caught up with her. An unknown amount of time later she felt someone poking her in the side.

"Go 'way, Xander. We still have an hour 'fore Buffy gets here," she muttered sleepily. Her mind was currently residing in her college apartment.

The poking continued, and whoever was doing it didn't seem to like the idea of giving up.

"Um, Dawn?" queried a female and decidedly non-Xandery voice.

Crap. This wasn't college. Instead, she was still inside the school sleeping at her desk.

Dawn cracked an eye open to see Emma standing a slight distance from the desk and holding one of the pointers Dawn used in class, even now her hand was wrapped in a latex glove.

"Do I even want to know how long I've been out?" she muttered blearily.

"Well, you missed lunch," Emma confided. "You didn't miss much except that Will was talking about his audition list. He was so excited, all lunch all he kept talking about his plans for the club."

"I'm surprised he didn't come and get me if he was that worked up," Dawn muttered as she rubbed her eyes.

She pretended not to see Emma's own cheeks flush. Dawn didn't want to think about Emma getting excited over Will getting worked up. Yep, she was stopping that mental train wreck right the hell now.

Emma shrugged a little, "He was about to, but then he mentioned something about having to get an accompanist for auditions and asked me to check up on you."

Dawn cracked a sleepy smile. "Wow, he must really be excited then. Last time I ducked out of lunch he came down here and gave a look like I had kicked his puppy. When I told him I wasn't hungry, he looked so heartbroken."

She grinned a bit wider now, looking sideways at Emma, "Still, it's better I missed lunch than auditions. If I had missed those he probably would have spanked me."

Okay, yes, that had been mean. But the way Emma had blushed was very much worth it. What she hadn't expected was the observant counselor's revenge.

"Really? From what you tell me, I'd worry about your sister. You mentioned Xander. Isn't he one of her friends? Really, Dawn, hooking up with your sister's friends? Nothing but trouble."

Dawn was sure later on that her blush had gone nuclear, but she tried to be dismissive.

"Xander? He's just a friend. I've told you that."

Emma's unconvinced face spoke volumes.

"Alright in middle school I had a crush on him. Happy now?"

Somehow, despite the excellent logic, Emma still didn't look convinced. Her arms were now folded, and she gave Dawn her best soul-seeking gaze.

"Sure, just a crush. Nothing significant about those. Dawn, I know this was awkward, but don't lie to me. I know about crushes, and this doesn't sound like just a crush."

Dawn, giving up, just nodded at Emma, "You're right, but it's complicated. I promise I'll tell you about it later. Deal?"

Emma smiled at Dawn and walked out of the room. Dawn had a feeling that if she were to ever get a look at the guidance counselor's calendar, she would find an appointment labeled "Talk to Dawn about her relationships." Dawn still didn't have a good read on Emma; she was nice enough, but her various phobias made Dawn forget how perceptive the woman could be. Emma, when she was focused on people, was very good at her job.

After school Dawn approached the auditorium. She had never spent much time in the room, despite being on the same hall. Nothing about either of her jobs had anything to do with music, and when the bands were rehearsing she usually wanted to forget the room existed. Now she entered on her own imperative, taking a chance to really appreciate the room.

Dawn walked down the aisle, passing the main blocks of seats with her eyes focused on the stage. Right now the curtain was down and a piano was placed on stage. Behind the piano was a man Dawn vaguely recalled from around campus. Maybe he was an adviser for one of the other bands. She was still looking at the stage when Will called her name.

Will sat behind a table closer to the front of the stage. Wasn't that the orchestra pit? Either way, he was sitting up straight with a notebook in front of him along with what looked like a list of everyone auditioning.

Dawn admittedly didn't know a lot about this process, but she felt bad for Will when she glimpsed only five names on the list. Despite that, she put on her best positive face as she answered Will.

"I've gotta hand it to you, Will. You look all kinds of ready."

He preened a little, like a kid. "Thanks. It's good to know I look as ready as I feel."

"Since this is my first time doing this, how does it work?" she asked as she took her seat and tried to find the best way to sit and look official. If Will was going all out for this, the least she could do was try to look the part.

"Oh, it's pretty simple. The kids will come in, give Brad whatever music they have, and then sing it. All I want you to do is listen. Give me what I like to call the 'ear of the audience,' let me know how they sound without worrying about the technical stuff."

It sounded easy enough, if a little _American Idol_-ish, but what the heck? It was an easy favor. Granted, her musical tastes were more Southern Californian than Midwestern, but she could manage. It might be nice to hear something other than soft rock and the experimental stuff she had grown up with.

The auditions went about as well as she could expect, considering there were only five kids. From what she could tell they all sounded good. Will, on the other hand, was ecstatic. He tried to hide it from the kids, but the way his leg kept twitching had been funny. Well, it had been funny until she thought table was going to take off while Rachel Berry sang "On My Own." She might have stepped on his foot a little harder than necessary, but if she hadn't taken steps by now her leg would be covered in bruises.

Once the kids had filed out, Will and Dawn had agreed the best place to discuss the songs and the "Sue Strategy" would be over dinner. Dawn followed Will's car to a small out-of-the-way diner that had great burgers. Dawn didn't contribute much to the musical discussion, but it had been fairly clear Will mostly wanted a sounding board. So she happily complied as he talked about his plans for Glee. She, on the other hand, found herself wondering what kind of breading they used on the onion rings. It was really good stuff.

Dawn waited for Will to start repeating himself before she worked the conversation around to the problem with Sue. Will at first wanted Dawn to make an emotional appeal to Figgins. It was sad, really. Will was so earnest he couldn't see how little that would work on Figgins.

"Will, you do realize we're talking about the guy who's making you pay cash out of your own pocket to support a school club? I don't think the waterworks are going to affect him." Dawn pointed out helpfully, "Plus, Sue's going to be there and I need an argument that can withstand the might of the Cheerios."

Will looked a little sheepish as he considered this. "Well, how about the budget? Everyone knows the only things that really get his attention are the budget and prestige for the school."

Dawn took a sip of her soda. "Which Sue has in abundance. I don't have the clout to go toe to toe with her without something I can toss on the table."

Will shrugged helplessly at her. "I'm sorry that I can't help you more, Dawn. But unless you have a ready donor or something, you might want to consider losing gracefully. Oh, before I forget, did you see the email? All grant applications are due by the end of the week. Do you have one ready?"

Dawn looked at Will wide eyed, an onion ring dangling limply in her fingers. "Of course," she said softly to herself. "I am such an idiot."

"Dawn, what's going on?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, trying to gather all her things at once. "I just remembered something I forgot about. Thanks for dinner, Will."

She tossed her half of the bill on her table and rushed out of the diner. She had barely touched the door to her car before her cell phone was in hand and she had Willow's voice mail on the line. A quick message later and Dawn was feeling far more confident.

It turned out Willow was really on the ball. When Dawn pulled into her driveway she got a text that simply said "Done," and when Dawn checked her email she found the thing that might open up her options at McKinley.

###################

It was probably cheating, but Dawn was going to cash in an old family connection to give herself some breathing room. After an incident in Buffy's senior year where the entire town went on a witch hunt, Willow's mom tried to forget the whole thing. Instead she started to focus her studies on students on the fringe of school social orders.

Now ten years in the future the study had attracted some major attention, especially after all the school shootings. After all these years of interest—and many wealthy donors later—the Rosenberg Grant merited national interest. Dawn wouldn't be able to guarantee the grant would actually come to Lima, but the promise of it would be enough to get Figgins and Sue off her back. Checking her calendar, she still had about three days to get everything put together. It was probably more time than she actually needed, but this whole thing was a desperation move.

Dawn leaned her head against her desk and tried to drown out the sounds coming from the choir room. She couldn't even imagine why she thought Glee Club thing was a great idea. Two days in, and the rehearsals across the hall still had Dawn reaching for pointy weapons. It wasn't the noise; she was used to her room being filled with soundtracks from the various school bands. The problem was the not-so-delightful blend of music and arguments. Every time the kids tried a song, they spent most of their time ripping each other apart.

Some of it was pretty damned funny. Kurt, whom Dawn recognized on sight as well as by voice, had a cutting sense of humor. The other kids had sarcasm and comments to spare, but why the hell couldn't they separate the music from the bitching? Will, naturally, had been clueless. Somehow he was able to ignore the insults and try to get the kids focused on the music. Dawn felt you really needed a permit for that kind of blunt force optimism.

A beep from her cell saved her from the show across the hall. It was time she put on a show of her own. She took advantage of the locked room and closed blinds to change into her interview clothes. The cut and style of the skirt and blouse were professional enough that she hoped that some of it would rub off.

Dawn turned to lock her door and had to hug the wall as a Rachel Berry-voiced blur made its unstoppable way down the hall. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Will also rushing down the hall—after Rachel, most likely. He gave her an apologetic shrug of his shoulders as he rushed past. He slowed a moment as he took in her outfit, then Will gave Dawn two thumbs up and mouthed "good luck" before breaking in a jog after his resident diva.

Dawn's smile was warm but professional as she knocked and entered Figgins's office. Sue was already seated in a bright blue tracksuit; Dawn just smiled at her before taking the seat next to her and placing her folder on Figgins's desk. All the folder actually held was her updated proposal, since she had forwarded information on the Rosenberg grant to Figgins a day ago.

"Principal Figgins, Coach Sylvester," she murmured, nodding to each as she projected earnest professionalism.

"Summers, good to see you. Figgy let me take a look at your grant request, and despite myself I am impressed." Sue smiled at Dawn and sounded perfectly reasonable. "So much so that I've been speaking to Figgins about ways to improve your chances of being awarded the grant."

_Oh, crap._ Dawn had to hide a swallow. She was prepped for an angry Sue, but she had no idea how to deal with Helpful Sue.

"Indeed, Miss Summers," Figgins chimed in, as if on cue. "Your proposal was very exciting. I haven't seen its like in my many years of being an administrator. So in order to put the best foot forward, I asked Sue to coordinate efforts with you. "

"That's a generous offer, sir," Dawn said her stomach flipping, "although Coach Sylvester doesn't have the credentials to apply for the grant."

"Credentials! " Sue spat, her voice now full of her usual contempt. "Look, Summers I've been around the academic block, and it takes more to get a grant than having a nice paper. I give you credit; you're smart"—and that admission looked like it pained the older woman. "But smart doesn't make you a winner. The problem is, kiddo, you're too wet behind the ears to take on something this big. As a first year teacher applying alone for a major grant, you'll be lucky they don't use your paper to line birdcages."

Dawn looked at Figgins to see if her putative boss would contribute anything, but judging by the smile on his face he seemed quite happy to let Sue lead the discussion. If this was the way the meeting was going to go, ending it quickly would probably be the best thing.

Dawn bit the bullet. "Taking that into account, Sue, how do we win it?"

Sue's face practically glowed. "Simple. Your original proposal was good but too broad. Figgins and I both agree that if you focused your paper on a single student group you'll have the best results."

Dawn didn't need a vision to see where this was going—just a strong understanding of Murphy's Law. She asked anyway, hoping she was wrong.

"You don't mean Glee Club, do you?" she asked, her voice low.

"We do, Dawn," Figgins said, using her first name for the first time she could recall. "Having you attached to Glee would solve two problems for us. Most importantly for you, it gives hands-on opportunities with a focus group for your paper. After all, this is far too important to risk your information because you were sitting behind a desk. Plus, you doing this solves our Sandy Ryerson problem."

Dawn knew all about the so-called Sandy Ryerson problem. After the now former teacher had been caught molesting a student, parents groups were demanding after-school activities had teachers of both sexes supervise—like having the numbers would automatically make things not happen. She supposed Will should have seen this coming, but since she was about to get wrapped up in this Dawn probably should have been the one paying more attention.

It was kind of fitting the very thing which had opened up Glee for Will would be the thing that bound her to it. It was probably futile, but she had to try to talk her way out of this.

Dawn directed her comments at Figgins. "Just a few problems with that idea, sir. Besides opening my proposal up to bias, when it comes to Glee Club I know nothing about music."

"That won't be a problem," Sue cut in, her helpful smile changed into something shark-like. "The whole point of your paper is outcast groups, and Glee is the best example of one we have. Don't worry about music, anyway. Within a year that little club is going to be gone."

The rest of the meaning went on in about the same fashion, so Dawn skimmed the conversation for important details: Glee had to place at Regionals or it would be disbanded, and the group had nothing resembling a budget. She probably should have been pissed; someone else thought they were taking away her choices again.

Dawn allowed herself to show a resigned smile. She thanked them both and walked out of the office. Dawn strode out of the school, her sensible heels clicking a staccato beat. Figgins and Sue thought they had her cornered, but during the conversation Dawn realized something important she had forgotten. She sent a text for Will to meet her in the morning before school so she could get caught up on Glee.

She didn't want this job, but if it was her only choice—well, it was her only choice. Amazing the clarity a few days brought. Sitting in the office, Figgins and Sue looked so smug; they had her trapped, or so they thought. Luckily for her, they didn't actually know Dawn Summers.


	6. Chapter 6

Title:Old Stories  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings both series for now  
Fandoms:Glee/Buffy  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee Special thanks to my Beta DropEdge, you were a big part in making this awesome.

Dawn gave the cashier a smile as she walked into the little diner Will had shown her a few days before. The place was pretty busy for a Sunday, full but not overcrowded—always a good sign. Taking her orders from a sign by the register, she found a corner booth for herself and sat facing the assembled crowd. She inhaled a deep breath and took in the glorious aroma of coffee.

She flagged down a waitress for a cup and the server, maybe sensing a kindred spirit, left a heated carafe at the table. Dawn toasted Will with her first sip; this place was an awesome find. Thinking of Will, she glanced at her watch and realized it was only 10:30. So what if she was early; it was just being punctual. It had nothing to do with how frustrated she was. After leaving Figgins' office she had been riding high on an anger wave.

She had spent most of Friday trying to find any way to get out of the arrangement. She called the Rosenberg Foundation, examined the school rules, even called her old academic adviser. Naturally her search had been pointless, since to a man they had all agreed Figgins and Sue had given her an excellent subject group for her paper. Apparently the fact she was a co-director was a positive instead of a whopping conflict of interest. Every other option exhausted, she broke down and called Will.

Speaking of the devil, the bell above the door jangled and in walked a familiar curly head of hair. After being waved in, he seated himself—back to the door, she couldn't help but notice. She gestured at the coffee carafe, and as Will reached for it she jumped right in.

"Hey, thanks for coming. Sorry about calling so late on Friday. I hope Terri wasn't too mad," Dawn said.

Will shrugged it off with a smile. "No problem. I figured whatever you wanted to talk about was important if you were calling me so late. I guess your meeting with Figgins didn't go well."

Dawn chuckled dryly at that. "That's kind of an understatement. At this point if it went any less well, they might be trying to find my body."

"Come on, it can't be that bad. You showed me your presentation. Everything was covered. You should have been golden," said a slightly skeptical Will.

So Dawn told him what happened, everything from Sue taking control of the meeting to her naming herself Dawn's adviser on the project.

"Not only is she 'assisting me,'"—this she said complete with air quotes—"but somehow she convinced Figgins that in order for the paper to be a success I need to become a well-rounded teacher. Whatever that means."

Will still looked confused, but his expression was starting to bleed into concern. "So how are you going to do that?"

"She says I need to help a student group, but instead of picking one I got assigned to one; I'll give you three guesses which one."

Will's reaction was not what she expected; laughter or maybe shared outrage she anticipated, but the contemplative look on his face was disturbing.

"So let me get this straight. You get to do your paper and you get to get involved with a group of students and help me out at the same time. I'm sorry, Dawn, but I don't see this as a bad thing." He paused for a moment. "Don't hit me for this, but did you ever consider they might be right?"

That made her snort coffee, and it took a moment to calm down. As she wiped at her nose and eyes, Will gave her what she'd come to think of as Concerned Look #3.

"Dawn, despite being forced into this, it might be the best thing for you."

She did her best not to roll her eyes at that.

"Will, I don't see how forcing me into anything is a good thing."

He shook his head. "Don't get me wrong, forcing you into this is a horrible way to go about it. Don't hit me, but I've been getting worried about the way you've been interacting with your kids."

"Will, I don't see what you are talking about. I come in, I teach my classes, and at the end of the period we all leave happy. Sure, they don't love the homework. But hell, it's high school; that's a given."

"All right," he conceded, "but how much do you talk to your kids outside of class?"

"I talk to them," she said, playing with some sugar packets. "I'm not an asshole; I just keep a professional distance."

Will gave her an appraising look. "Professional distance, huh? So that's what they're calling that load of crap now. Look, call it what you want, but I've watched you in class. You give your lecture, rush through any questions. You aren't teaching your kids; you're just lecturing at them. Look, Dawn, you aren't a bad teacher. You just need to be more involved. I'm going to keep saying this could really be a good thing for you."

Dawn didn't even try to hide her skepticism. " Oh yeah, my being shanghaied into joining the Glee Club or it fails is an awesome thing. Will, I don't have a problem with your kids. And if it's what I need to do, I'll do it. I just thought you should know about this."

Will closed his eyes, and any retort he was about to make was cut off by the arrival of the waitress. Orders made, Dawn started to speak again when Will cut her off.

"Okay, Dawn. Since we're being honest, let's put it all on the table. If you want to be involved with the Glee Club, you'll get nothing but open arms." His face hardens and he stares her in the eyes. "Let's also be clear, though. If you don't want to do this and you come in and hurt these kids… Well, you really don't want to hurt these kids."

Dawn set down her mug and considered the Will Scheuster in front of her. This wasn't the slightly goofy popular teacher. This was a man who would take all his sincerity and drive it toward a purpose. He would keep going until either he was successful or there were no other options. If the steel in his spine was actually real, then it would be worth it to follow him and see where this led.

Dawn met his gaze. "I'm not exactly doing back flips or riding fuzzy unicorns about being forced into this. Despite that, from what I've seen of your practices and seeing them in class, the kids look happier. I'm not 100 percent on board yet, but I'm getting there." She shot him a grin. "Plus, nothing would make me happier than to rub this little stunt in Sue and Figgins's faces."

As Will considered this, she could see his glare lighten a little. Finally he gave her a hesitant grin.

"If anyone else had fed me that line, Dawn, I would have already sent them packing." He paused to shake his head. "It's a good thing it's you. I want to believe in you, Dawn, so I know you won't let me down. We'll get you involved and see what happens. So before this gets anymore cheesy," he put his hand across the table to her, "welcome to New Directions."

Dawn reached across the table and shook Will's hand.

"Either way, it's going to be a hell of a ride."

For the most part things went smoothly after the handshake. They spent the rest of the meal talking about what exactly the club needed and how Dawn could fill those gaps. Will, it turned out, was great at the artistic direction. But his detail management skills were just not there. Dawn soon found herself with a list of things she would have to organize. In a way it felt comfortable. It would be just like being a Watcher, minus the stress.

####################

Call her a dreamer, but caught up in Will's enthusiasm Dawn had believed the non-stress message. Luckily, reality was right there to remind her what actually would happen. Dawn had known Glee would take up a new chunk of time; she just wasn't ready for how much it would actually take. Glee time involved two classes per week and three after school practices. Sue did her part by joyfully informing Dawn that since her paper depended on the club she would have to be there for every practice. That's how she found herself sitting in the auditorium as Will attempted to lead the kids through a rendition of "You're the One That I Want."

Rachel and Mercedes were currently screeching about who should sing the lead female role. Dawn shook her head and absently added a tally to the Barbra vs. Beyonce chart. Every time the duo brought up one a musical idol, Dawn would jot it down. At the moment Barbra still held the lead, but this was mostly due to Rachel's rapid-fire delivery.

Dawn settled into her seat and glared at the accounting budget for the club. It shouldn't be so hard to budget with an income of almost nothing, but nonetheless here she was. At least it was better than getting involved with the ego storm on stage. A risky glance up showed the group splitting into three camps: The Argument, the Mortified, and the What Am I Doing Here?—the latter camp comprised of one Finn Hudson.

The fact that Finn Hudson, quarterback and all-around popular kid, had joined Glee was a riddle Dawn couldn't solve. If this were Sunnydale she would be looking for a good exorcism spell. Instead he stood uncomfortably on stage, trading awkward glances with Will. Every time Dawn asked Will why Finn joined, the teacher would trail off or change subjects. Will knew he was a bad liar, and he seemed to think not saying anything would cover for it. She would probably be happier if she didn't know, and since he wouldn't talk about it she would have to shelf the topic—at least until she had a better chance to bring it up.

Will eventually got his—well, she guessed it was now "their"—little troupe mobilized, and soon Rachel and Finn were telling each other lyrically about how much they wanted each other. Dawn was still absently filling in numbers when the entire group harmony kicked in and they seemed to smooth into the number. She kicked her foot against the chair before she realized she was tapping it; and judging by the marks on the paper, her pencil was as well.

Her surprise must have shown on her face because the look Will shot her made him look as if he got his Red Ryder BB Gun every Christmas. She just shrugged and gave him an answering grin. It didn't hurt that Artie was by then doing wheelies in time to the beat. Shaking her head, Dawn turned back to the books. There was no way she was getting this done if she kept watching Will dork out. When she turned her attention back to the page, it was all she could do to keep the smile plastered on her face.

Sometime between an "Ooh Ooh Ooh" and a "Honey," she covered the pages in the words "gather," "collect" and "protect." These words were all over the pages, vertical, horizontal, joined together in a version of Scrabble out of _The Shining_. Dawn could feel an oncoming freak out, and getting out of the theater seemed like a brilliant idea. Her legs, on the other limb, decided they were very happy staying where they were.

Dawn looked at the stage as the kids, oblivious to her freak out, reached the next verse of the song. She didn't recognize it, but right then she couldn't remember the verses to _Itsy Bitsy Spider_, much less _Grease_. Then the room vanished in a viridian blur. A whimper escaped from her throat as she shut her eyes. Naturally, closing them didn't help; the green was still there and her eyes wanted to open of their own accord. Dawn gave in and slowly opened her eyes. The blur was still green, but now it was a shade of olive.

The olive leached the color from the room and blurred shapes as well. She could still tell there were seven figures on stage, but beyond that they were blobs. That didn't really matter, since she had so much more to which to pay attention. Every surface in the theater, including Dawn herself, was covered in a thin, slimy film. The stuff shined like the road after a rainstorm, glistening with thin clusters of multi-hued greens. It ran down the aisles and off the chairs in a sluggish flow toward the stage.

The stuff even streamed from the wall, drawn by what she hoped was gravity toward the bottom of the room. The mass swelled up toward the lip of the stage. The sludge lapped at the edge of the stage, held back like a swell of water at a dam. Then, as she took a breath, the sludge spilled over the edge and flooded in a thin layer across the stage.

Nothing changed for a moment, but then she could see two figures pass through the overflow. Once they hit the film, the music stopped and everyone on stage broke out into argument again. The flow surged forth toward the stage, no longer held in check. In a wave it consumed the figures. Caught in the flow, she glimpsed a glint of white light before everything went dark green around her.

#############################

Someone was talking around her, calling Dawn's name. Her head was pounding, but whoever was saying her name just wouldn't shut up. In the great battle of Summers vs. The Noise, she conceded defeat and slowly opened her eyes. She found herself lying on her back, a bunch of coats and stuff under her. Judging by the height, she had to be on the audition table. Someone's backpack propped her legs up (She took a moment to thank the goddess she wore slacks today.) while another bundle acted as a pillow.

With the entire club gathered around her, Dawn could make out Tina looking awkwardly concerned and Kurt, a hand on his hip, watching her like a hawk. She turned her head to look at him and could feel Kurt's gaze shift; apparently her pillow was his jacket. Weird how it just _fe__lt_ more expensive. Hopefully she hadn't drooled on it; if she had Kurt, might just stake her.

"Guys! I promise you, I'm fine," Dawn protested.

Unfortunately none of the kids were fools and didn't seem to buy it. Having had enough of this crap, Dawn made a start at getting off the table when she found Rachel in her face.

"Ms. Summers," Rachel said, her voice painfully clear at the moment, "Mr. Scheuster stepped out for a moment to make a phone call. And as such he informed us that while he was gone you were to remain in your prone position on the table."

"Rachel, I don't need to keep lying down. Like I said, I'm fine."

From the look Rachel was giving her, Dawn knew she was about as convincing as Willow on a caffeine binge.

"Mr. Scheuster told us you might say that, and since neither you nor I are medical professionals—though my two fathers did compel me to take a course in CPR and First Aid—from what I recall, lying there will be the best thing for you."

Before she had a chance to respond (and probably get sued for scarring the kids' psyches), the auditorium doors opened and Will hurried down the stairs.

Will gave her an appraising look, and possibly noticing the proximity of Rachel to Dawn, he turned and addresses the kids.

"Hey guys, let's give Ms. Summers some air. Take five and I'll let you know what's going on."

The kids all mumbled various assents and filed out the theater, though Dawn caught a high-pitched comment about the show always going on followed by shushing before the doors closed. Dawn started to lift her head, half intent on glaring Will into submission. But the blinding pain as she lifted her head forced her down.

"Fuck," she groaned as her head fell onto the very soft jacket.

"So help me, Will, when I get better I am going to break your leg and let Rachel nurse you back to health."

Will tried to laugh at that, but it sounded forced. "You're making jokes, so I don't think it's too bad." He crouched down next to her so she didn't have to raise her head. "Dawn, what the hell is going on? This is the second time you zoned out or collapsed this week."

Second time? _T__he hell?_

"Second time?" she asked a bit timidly, not wanting the answer.

"Yesterday I found you in the costume room. I came by to ask if you wanted some pop, and there you were standing in the middle of the room staring at the racks."

She recalled Will asking her something while she sorted costumes and outfits for the group. She had just been tired, and all that fabric got kind of boring: nothing else to it. She was about to tell him the same thing when another lance of pain shot through her head.

Will must have seen her reaction because his face got very decisive and he stood up. "Right. I think the best thing would be for you to go to a doctor."

"Sure, makes perfect sense. Once the headache dies down enough so that I can drive, I'll get everything checked out." She had no such plans, of course, but if it got him off her case…

"Luckily for both of us, I'm not an idiot," he said in a tone that saw right through her bullshit. "If I let you go home, you would lie about going just to get me off your case. So instead I went to the office to get your emergency contacts," he said a little smugly.

Dawn's stomach did a twist. "Will, by all that is holy, please tell me you haven't called yet? That you didn't call my sister about this."

There might be hope. If Buffy didn't get involved it would all be good. She would even actually go to the doctor.

He instead nodded in confirmation. "I called her office and the guy on the phone told me he would get her the message. Something about her being in New Zealand right now."

Dawn groaned and tried to bury herself further into her makeshift designer pillow. Thanks to the magic of time zones, Buffy had what amounted to an extra 24 hours to get in touch with the others. She was going to be rescued, again.

Will continued on, oblivious to the shitstorm he had just stirred up. "The guy on the phone—Andrew, I think—asked me if I wouldn't mind driving you home. He said he would have someone over by the evening."

"Did they say who?"

"Xavier? Or was it Anders? They said you knew him."

Xander. Of course. Who else could they send?

"Anyway, they said he would stay with you and make sure everything was okay. It will give you a chance to rest up since you aren't coming to Carmel now. I already asked Emma, and she's happy to do it."

"Will, that's sweet. But I have to go to Carmel." She was desperate now, not looking forward to a weekend trapped in the house with Xander. "Vocal Adrenaline is the competition. I have to see them perform, and there is no way Figgins or Sue would let me miss something as big as that."

Will shook his head. "Don't worry. I already called Figgins and let him know what happened. He told me to tell you to take Friday off and not show up on campus until Monday." Will smiled at her, probably trying to be reassuring. "It's not like he could order you to go with you passing out."

She was about to protest again when another lance of pain shot through her head. Suddenly Friday off sounded like a good plan, and even if Xander was around she could still go to Carmel. It would be no problem.

Will put a hand lightly on her shoulder. "Relax. I think Emma and I can manage the kids for the day. I need you to get better, I can't run this place if you keep falling down on me. We'll get you home. You rest up, and on Monday you can go back to being stubborn."

Defeated, Dawn leaned back and closed her eyes. Not seeing things helped more than she realized.

Later on, when she wasn't so miserable, she would properly thank all the kids. The group had stuck around—most likely to gossip at the door—but when Will helped her down from the table, Finn had her other arm and helped her walk up the stairs. It was her own fault for trying to walk—not that she would admit it. Even so, she would be damned if she got carried out, so an awkward limp it would be.

Mercedes and Tina had her coat and bags, and they followed in Artie and Rachel's wake as the duo worked on holding doors open for her and her bearers. Once she turned the corner she could see Kurt inspecting his coat for any signs of injury. That set her off laughing until everyone gave her looks like they were all convinced she was crazier than they thought.

New Directions coaxed its reluctantly invalid co-director into Will's car. The kids watched the car until it pulled out of the lot. Dawn couldn't help smiling; they looked like a litter of puppies.

"You were right," she admitted keeping her eyes closed. "They are good kids." 

His answering chuckle rose briefly above the sounds of classic rock on the radio before she drifted off.

A too-short time later she woke up when the engine turned off. Her head didn't ache as much and her legs felt less like jelly. Despite telling this to Will, he insisted on helping Dawn into her apartment. Without the kids as an audience it was much easier to accept the favor of Will helping her onto her couch, propped up on whatever pillows she had handy. Once he had her settled on the couch he left a glass of water and some aspirin on the coffee table before turning to her.

"Need anything else before I go?"

She smiled at him. "Let's see. Pillows, painkiller and TV. Nope, I think I'm good to go."

Dawn started making shooing gestures with her hands. "Will, go. I'm fine. Plus, Terri's going to be mad enough when she finds out you took me to bed."

The way his jaw dropped was totally worth it.

Will managed to stammer out a goodbye in between her laughs, and with a final wave he shut the door and she heard her lock click. Still laughing to herself, Dawn chugged the aspirin and water and leaned back into her pillows. It was dark out when she heard the door click, and she didn't have a chance to reach for a stashed knife before the door opened.

The man in her doorway was six foot, black hair, and dressed in some sort of explorer outfit. But most telling even after all these years was the eye patch. All these years later Xander Harris was still Xander. He looked a little hesitant before coming into the living room and sitting down on her love seat.

"Hey, Dawnie. Long time no see."


	7. Chapter 7

Title: Old Stories (7/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. Thank you to everyone tracking or following this story. I won't threaten to hold this story up in demand for reviews but please tell me what you think. Anything I know about how you guys feel about this story can only make it better.

Special thanks to my Beta DropEdge, you were a big part in making this more awesome than it has any right to be.

"Hey Dawnie, long time no see."

Despite smelling like cinnamon and sandalwood—tell-tales of a teleportation spell—the yellow mud on his boots quickly flash fried into sand thanks to the same spell and was currently finding new ways to grind into her carpet. Xander greeted her as if it were just another day.

"Hey, Xan," she breathed softly, letting herself fall back into the pillows. If she was extremely lucky he would miss the wince caused by moving.

"So where did Willow drop you off?" she asked, her voice steadier now that she was mostly horizontal.

Xander shifted a little, his bags hitting the floor in a rustle of nylon, canvas and buckles.

"A little rest stop 20 minutes out of town. I would have been here sooner, but I had to wait on Faith to have the girls drop off a car." He paused a second and she could feel his concerned gaze. "I wanted something with a big backseat in case we had to move you."

"It isn't that bad, Xander," she said, attempting to reassure him. "I'm just a little light headed. There was really no reason to drag you out here. Will and the kids were just overreacting."

"Really," he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. She could feel his steady gaze evaluating her.

It had taken passing out in front of Will and the kids to convince them she wasn't in top form. Xander had 10-plus years experience in cutting through the bull crap of the Rosenberg and Summers women.

"Overreacting, Dawn?" Xander scoffed, concern still heavily evident in his voice. "You zone out at work and, to quote your co-worker, 'lose consciousness.' Apparently it's bad enough that this Will guy called Buffy out of concern because they couldn't wake you up. From where I'm sitting, our reactions have been seriously understated."

She could hear another rustle, and in her peripheral she could see Xander pacing around her living room. A quick glimpse of a nearby mirror showed his face is tight with concern.

"Do you know what happened when Buffy got that message? She was five minutes away from talking Willow into letting her teleport out here instead."

Dawn rose up to face Xander over the back of the couch. She swallowed a little as the implications hit her. Buffy, exposed to Lima and sapped of Slayer abilities, would at best be a minor disaster. It was true there were other Slayers, but they weren't Buffy. Even Faith's rep didn't pack as much punch compared to "The Slayer Who Couldn't Die." Buffy spent most of her time moving around in the world just so a lot of nasty things would stay in pits instead of causing more trouble.

"That's right," Xander said, not unkindly. "Willow and I were about to let her, too. World be damned, her little sister was in trouble."

"Obviously you guys talked her down," Dawn said, gripping the back of the couch harder as her hands started to shake. Apparently, the second wind she had gotten right after practice was just enough to get her in the door.

"Giles had to do it," Xander admitted. "It wasn't pretty, and the desk in his office caved in at one point, but eventually she agreed that I could go in her place." He couldn't hide his wince, and Dawn was forced to agree.

The desk in Giles's office had been an antique monstrosity of old woods and a seemingly infinite number of drawers, shelves and cabinets. It had been so solid that it came out of the bombing of the Old Council estates with nothing more than some scorch marks.

Dawn's head spun and the room tilted on its side. Fighting against the urge to scream (_or possibly throw up_, she thought), she rested her forehead against the back of the sofa and closed her eyes tightly. She was so busy trying to regain her equilibrium that she didn't even notice the strong hands on her back and shoulders gently lowering her back onto the pillows.

"That's enough of that," Xander murmured. "Just keep lying there and I'll get the car. You need to go to the hospital."

Dawn's eyes popped open at the "H" word as her hand shot out and gripped his arm in a death grip.

"Xander, listen," she said, trying to keep Xander in the center of her vision. "We can't go to the hospital like this."

She risked a quick flick of her eyes to indicate his outfit. Jungle appropriate, sure, but here in Lima he just looked like an Indiana Jones impersonator.

"Not to mention the smell," she said, wrinkling her nose for effect. "If we go to the ER this late at night with you smelling like that, all they're going to assume is that I'm having a bad trip."

He took a good whiff and his eyes widened a little in surprise. He ran his free hand through his hair, clearly trying to calm down before giving Dawn a frustrated sigh.

"Okay, you win, No big bad medical doctors for you." He started to turn toward his bags. "If you want to let me go, Willow gave me something that might help you out."

Dawn felt her cheeks warm as she quickly released his arm. Xander squatted in front of his backpack, and after a few moments of rustling his search was rewarded with a small brown packet. Standing back up, he began to shake the packet absently as he walked into the kitchen. She heard the clanking of cookery, one of which was probably her kettle. Now that Xander wasn't in her immediate vision, she shut her eyes and leaned back. Without the searing migraine, the way the world was rocking would be kind of fun.

She thought about her possible head trauma theme park for a few minutes before she heard Xander's footsteps coming back her way. As he came closer her attention was drawn by the most Powers-awful stench. She heard the click of a mug on her coffee table and found herself being assisted into a sitting position. The thick, swampy smell had taken residence right under her nose.

"Drink it," Xander said in a voice that brooked no argument.

And so she did, too worn out to even argue. It tasted worse than it smelled, naturally, but once she finished gagging it down the pounding in her head lessened.

Xander was watching her face as she drank, and something seemed to satisfy him since he grabbed the mug out of her hands and left her sitting up.

"Just a friendly herbal supplement from Dr. Wicca," he said with forced cheerfulness as he walked back into the kitchen. "No magic, but it has a lot of balancing and supplemental who-whatsits. Willow tried to tell me what they all were, but I was soon reduced to the nodding and the smiling."

His face broke out into a fond smile at the mention of the Witch before turning back to his patient. "Feeling any better?"

Dawn nodded at him, also smiling, and not lying; she didn't feel anywhere near "good," but it was an improvement from being hospital bound.

"Cool," Xander said with a stretch. In the quiet of the apartment Dawn could hear something pop, "It's way past insane o'clock. We can talk about this in the morning, but right now I need to crash."

"No problem," she said dreamily, whatever Willow gave her making her really fuzzy.

Xander walked past her to grab his bags, and for a brief moment he looked like he wanted to say something else before shaking his head and going upstairs to her spare bedroom. For her part, Dawn took advantage of the new quiet to snuggle deeper into her pillow pile. She heard the faint sound of the upstairs door closing before she drifted off into la-la land.

Morning must have come at some point while she was sleeping because noises in her kitchen gently but determinedly started waking her. Her blinds were open and the apartment was filled with morning sunlight. She had to be feeling better or she wouldn't be getting embarrassed by the amount of dust trapped in the morning sunbeams. _Well_, Dawn thought, _it's like Mom used to say: if you can be embarrassed, you must be feeling better_.

Taking that advice to heart, she pushed back the blankets and stretched. So far, so good: some minor cramping, but her couch really wasn't made for sleeping. Now for the true test. Turning carefully, she sat up. Her head swam for a second, but not enough to make her lie back down. Pushing off, she got to her feet and was decently sturdy. After taking a moment to properly stretch, she turned toward the kitchen and the glass of orange juice on the end table.

"Just drink it; don't argue!" Xander shouted from the kitchen, from where she could hear the blending music of cookware.

She grabbed the glass and started sipping the juice as she wandered toward the kitchen. The room was in chaos, and she could see familiar pans on the stove bubbling at various levels as well as groupings of dirty bowls and the remnants of vegetables she didn't remember buying. Xander was in the middle of the chaos dressed in sweats and a blue T-shirt, feet bare, his hair post-shower damp. The way the muscles in his back shifted as he battled a pan of eggs brought a familiar blush to Dawn's cheeks.

She knew that way of thinking lead nowhere good, so she drained the rest of the juice and set it on the counter.

"Anything I can do to help?"

Xander turned to her and shook his head. "Nah. Despite the way it looks, I've got this; I really got a hang on this group cooking thing after Sunnydale. The two of us? No challenge at all. I grabbed some clothes and put them in the bathroom down here if you want to grab a shower. I even left you enough hot water."

Shower. _Man_ did that word sound good. She gave Xander a small wave and headed for the tiny downstairs guest bathroom. She could have used her own, of course, but it was her house and she could use whatever bathroom she wanted. Well, that and she didn't want to risk stairs right now. She stepped under the spray, and while she relaxed she thought about what had brought Xander to this point.

After Anya's death, Xander checked out of life and started wandering the world. On paper he was tracking down newly activated Slayers, but in reality everybody knew better. He spent two years in Africa, and then he started going to locations where trained Watchers and that guides wouldn't go near. Everyone was so caught up in getting the Council back up and running that nobody recognized these trips as the veiled suicide attempts they were.

Xander would probably still be wandering if Giles hadn't put his foot down—literally, or so the rumors said. At the very least it involved a shouting match and a good amount of liquor. Dawn tended to believe the version where Giles had to go Ripper on Xander, letting the younger man get into a fist fight with him and eventually pinning Xander to the ground and knocking some sense into him. Neither man would ever clear things up and tell what had really happened.

However it happened, Xander still went to dangerous places—but now he would go with a team of Slayers. That was supposedly for his protection, and even now it was funny how that word had so many layers to it. After every mission he would spend time in London with Giles, Rio with Willow, or sometimes in Rome with Dawn and Buffy. Group-think agreed it didn't matter where he went exactly, so long as he was around friends.

Xander broke this pattern only one time. In Somalia his Slayer escorts died protecting a new Slayer from a Warlord. Said Warlord had some nasty demons in his employ, and after all was said and done Xander and the girl were the only survivors. Xander parked the girl on the first flight in the direction of London and migrated south to get spectacularly drunk on the veldt.

It had taken the combined efforts of Willow, Buffy and Faith to find him and drag him to Willow's condo in Rio. After two years he knew plenty of places to hide. Six months of Best Friend Therapy later, Xander began to undertake missions again. Technically his role was purely diplomatic; he would act as a roving super for the various Council properties and along the way talk nice to friendly demon tribes. Sometimes he even still went on the occasional retrieval mission. A revised version of the "shovel speech" from Willow was probably the only thing keeping him from vanishing off the grid.

"Especially after last year," Dawn said bitterly to herself as she dried off and slipped into a pair of sweats and a McKinley High T-shirt.

Walking out of the bathroom still drying her hair, she stumbled for just a second but managed a recovery. From the look of things Xander was so busy with breakfast that he probably didn't notice. She padded barefoot back to the kitchen where Xander was pulling a pan out of the oven. He turned around, hands swathed in her cheap Wal-Mart potholders, and nodded his head toward her table. Taking the hint, she took a seat and was deeply satisfied to find a cup of coffee at her seat, already the medium brown of a perfect mix of milk and sugar.

They ate breakfast in comfortable silence. Dawn was too busy trying to figure out what exactly the egg cake thing Xander made was actually called. When asked, he just waggled his eyebrows and called it a secret. Xander spent a good part of the meal reading the slim _Lima Gazette_, the subscription to which she kept only out of habit.

In between those tasks the apartment filled with the noises of utensils on plates and the relaxed sounds of two people breathing and eating. Dawn hadn't had a morning like this in a year, and she didn't realize how much she missed it until she was through her third cup of coffee. She got up for more but found the pot empty. Without looking up from the sports section, Xander cheerfully informed her there was more juice in the fridge.

The kitchen was still wrecked, so making more coffee wouldn't be worth the hassle—or so she told herself as she fished out a juice glass from the cabinet and filled it. Sitting down, she rolled her eyes at Xander.

"'Fess up. How much did you buy? It looks like you got half a farm in there."

"Not that much," he said, eye twinkling. "It didn't take that long to get it all inside. Dawn, seriously, I respect the take-out diet as much as the next American, but you were pretty wiped out. I almost thought you didn't even use your fridge until I saw the coffee, milk and the jar of pickles."

It took her almost no time to think of a reply; they had had this argument so many times in so many different ways. Instead of rising to the bait, she simply sipped her juice and gave waiting him out a shot.

Nodding to himself, Xander pushed the plate aside and took a breath.

"So, can we talk about what's going on now?"

Right now she'd rather give Sue Sylvester a foot massage, but it was bullet-biting time. She told him everything; she always had. He just nodded when she mentioned the unraveling and the meditations when she first entered town: no great leap of logic that Willow would tell him about that. She deftly layered in the school drama. Finally, without any other buffer material, she told him about the visions.

He didn't get angry. No, it was worse than that: he got serious.

"Visions, Dawn? I didn't think you were anywhere near that stupid." He paused to pass his hand through his hair again. "Coming here… I thought it would be bad. You're working yourself sick. But, visions? Why didn't you tell us?

She picked at the remnants of egg on her plate. "At first I was afraid. I didn't want to get pulled out of here by something I didn't understand. If I brought them up everyone would come swooping in to save me from myself." She shrugged then. "Now I just need to know what they mean."

"Damn straight we would have pulled you out of here. If I thought it would do any good I'd be on the phone with Buffy and Giles right now. Goddammit, Dawn. Do you want to end up like Cordy?"

"I'm not gonna end up like Cordy! " she insisted, voice rising.

"You're damn right!" Xander yelled back, plates rattling as he slammed his fist onto the table. "Unlike Deadboy, _I'm_ not going to let you die."

"Xander," she said quietly, "it's not going to be like that. Angel and Spike—"

"Don't bring them up," Xander cut her off, eyes devoid of emotion.

"Angel and Spike," she pressed on, "tried their best, but in the end they were fighting an insane higher power _and_ Wolfram & Hart. They didn't have a choice."

"Right, because we know everything we need to know about the Key and what it can do," Xander said, voice still flat. It felt like a smack in the face.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," she said, exasperated and swinging out her arms. "The Key is me, but _I'm_ not the Key. And it wants me to do something! If I could walk away I probably would, but it's too late. I'm sucked into whatever the hell this is."

This was getting nowhere, and their comments began to reflect it. They quickly left the realm of disagreement and devolved into pure squabbling—except somewhere along the way, without realizing it, the argument shifted into something else. Soon they were both shouting at each other across the table, the cheap plastic the only line they won't cross; they had long passed the emotional ones.

In retrospect they were both scared, on different levels and for each other. The fear let the past, when they were both trying so hard to hold it back, take center stage. Maybe it was because they were young and in love once or that they bled together numerous times that things got so heated so quickly. They forgot in the heat of the moment some things are inexcusable.

"Quit trying to protect me, Xander. It's not like it did Anya any good!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

That would be one of those things...

They both froze like a pantomime of argument, the would-be savior and the determined anti-damsel. Part of her wanted to apologize right away, grovel on her knees and ask for forgiveness. The part that won was the part trained by a vampire named William the Bloody; it learned that in a fight you never back down, no matter how wrong you are. She could almost smell the cigarettes and hear the rustle of a heavy black duster on her neck as she glared at the man across the room, fists resting on her cocked hips.

Xander was stuck in a different place, his face pale. She could almost see the memories waking and dying in his single eye, the eye patch mirroring it denying access to the other parts of his mind. _Is he seeing the woman he loved getting stabbed in the gut? Or maybe the same woman lying limp in his arms after another friend jumped off a tower__?__ Maybe he__'s seeing that friend dying again of gunshots __after they went through the hel__l of raising her from the dead,__ while upstairs anot__her grieves unknown for her now-__dead lover_, Dawn thought with horror.

It didn't matter. Those were just some of the failures that haunted Xander Harris: the ones he trusted enough to share with her late at night in the quiet of her old apartment. Because of that they were the easiest thing to grab and throw back at him. _You always hurt the ones you love._

He doesn't stop to insult her, or even hit her—which she would have gladly accepted. Instead he marches upstairs. She heard the doorknob collide with the wall. The stomping from above was sharp and deliberate. Every step was too hard but quick. He was coming downstairs, and she could hear a picture fall, probably caught on the strap of a bag slung over a shoulder in haste.

The door opened with another slam into the wall, the bags still knocking around and the door swung almost shut. She didn't hear an engine starting and couldn't decide if that was better or worse. It was only noon. Right now, on a sane day she would be finishing up lunch with Will, Emma and possibly Ken and getting ready for Glee.

She was halfway through doing the dishes when she realized she was crying. She probably had been crying awhile, but she tried to bury herself in housework. If it worked for Joyce Summers, it should have worked for Dawn Summers. **Of course** the monks would fuck that up as well; housework was never her solace. She left the dishes at the sink, some halfway between soaking and not. Passing the breakfast from what seemed like an age ago, she faced her book cabinet.

A quick moment later she was surrounded by the smell of old leather and ink. On the shelves was all the occult information she physically possessed from the Council. It wouldn't be enough, but it would a good start. She needed information—solid, irrefutable proof—that she was on the right track and not just crazy. It wouldn't make things even close to better; she had driven him away again. She'd better have something to show for it this time, just in case he comes back.

_It was junior year of university. She was 24, in London, and trying to be independent. She liked to believe she was the only one paying for the apartment, that she supported herself solely on her job in a nearby used bookstore. Xander came to visit on one of his furloughs, and they spent the night watching crappy movies and reruns of old sitcoms. She was more than happy to let the schoolwork slide for the night._

_It happened somewhere near a commercial break. She was sitting on the floor, as he had won the coin toss for her best (and the only) armchair in the apartment. The little studio flat hardly had room for even that piece of furniture, but she refused to read in bed.(Like she needed another thing to keep her from getting to sleep.) Her head was half on the cushioning and half on his thigh as he sprawled sideways in the chair so his feet hung over the armrests. _

_It started with Xander rubbing her neck absently, then it became a one-handed neck massage, and then two hands. She leaned into it as eagerly as she leaned into the kiss that followed. He wasn't her first; some Italian boy she didn't remember had that dubious honor. Between various boyfriends and college hook-ups, Xander was the only one in a long time who mattered. They weren't rough or particularly gentle, but that in-between state of those who knew better but did it anyway._

_After, they both cuddled and freaked out in different intervals. The promised "one-time thing" became every time he came to town. Within a year he had a space in her miniscule closet for his stuff and space in her bathroom for his essentials. There was time for morning after pancakes or more exotic dishes. Teasing remarks concerning coffee: she said she drank it, he said she inhaled it. Just one in a line of a thousand quiet moments when two people are in that state of comfortable affection they're afraid to call love._

_By mutual consent at first they didn't tell anybody; he was afraid of what the others would think, and she couldn't be arsed to admit anything to her sister. They were in a petty period that lasted another year before Buffy quit fucking the Immortal. As time passed and things got more comfortable between them, he wanted to share what they had with the others. She didn't. He got more upset about not being able to proclaim his love to the world, and she reveled in having her secrets._

_In the middle of her last year he issued the ultimatum: tell everyone or end it. She called him "too old to live a little and let things happen," and he called her "too immature to commit." They were both right. He walked out for the first time._

_He had thrown himself into his job and she into her studies. She graduated not with honors but near the top of her class; he didn't come to graduation or the after party at Giles's. Except for family holidays and research requests submitted by email, they hadn't spoken again until last night._

_Maybe the thing she as the Key was best at was tearing things apart._

He walked for an hour before the tell-tale twinge of an impending blister reminded him he'd been walking a long distance in boots without wearing socks. Sitting on the curb, he fished for two pairs of socks and his first aid kit; in five minutes he'd slapped some moleskin on the tender place and sported a double load of socks on both feet. Tying off his laces with a snap, he kept moving. In the back of his mind he noticed his T-shirt and sweats were both soaked, but it was the last gasp of summer in the Midwest.

He kept walking, turning down streets at random. (Later he'd realize he'd been walking in a wide circle.) It was late afternoon when his phone rang. He let it ring, instead focusing on moving. Soon the constant vibrating in his pocket ate away at him. He stopped to take a seat on a nearby bench and ignored the number of missed calls and messages before answering the phone.

"Xander? Thank the Goddess! What the hell is happening there?" It wasn't _her_, but it was Willow, sounding severely flustered.

"Willow?" he asked, both amazed and disappointed.

"Don't you dare 'Willow' me, Xander Harris. Faith told us you got the car and then we didn't hear anything else from you. How's Dawn doing?" She was starting to bubble over in red-headed rage.

"Oh, she's fine. Back to her old self and them some," he said, trying to keep his voice light.

"So you didn't call to let me know because _why_?" Willow probed.

"Like I said, there was no reason to. She's back on her feet and being stubborn. The mission, as they say is, accomplished." He couldn't help the bitterness creeping into his voice at the last remark.

"Oh, Goddess,"—and in his mind's eye he could see that sigh followed by a familiar eye roll—"you didn't sleep together, _again_?"

"What? Of course not!" His voice cracked as he paused to let his mind process that. "What do you mean 'again?'"

"Xander, sweetie, I love you. But you do know you can't lie worth beans, right?"

At the moment he was doing his best gargoyle impression.

"Wait. You knew?" he asked, not quite believing it.

"Of course I did. Who do you think kept coming up with assignments that would take you back to London?" He could hear the phone rustle as she shrugged. "Besides, your cellphone bill kept coming to my place."

"Willow, if you knew why didn't you say anything?" He was blushing now.

"Because you were happy, you doof." she said simply. "If you didn't want me to know, I assumed you had a good reason. It might have been a stupidly male one, but in your mind it had to be a good reason."

There was a reason after all these years that Willow remained his best friend.

"So should I keep amazing you, or do you want to save us both the trouble and tell me what really happened?" she asked gently.

He told her. it took less time than he thought it would, all things considered.

"Well, poop."

"Poop?" he asked, his face incredulous. "Wills, some people actually consider us _grown ups_ now. I think you can swear."

"You knew what I meant, right?"

"Well, yeah. But..."

"Good, then it works," she said in her "the matter is settled voice," and despite himself he started laughing.

"Finally," she sighed again, sounding more satisfied this time. He could hear her fidgeting when she spoke again. "The most important thing is, do you want to fix this? Or do you just want to forget about the whole thing?"

His laughter choked off as if someone turned a tap. That was the question he'd been avoiding all afternoon. With everything they said to each other—for the second time—well, he couldn't picture an apology fixing any of that. The idea of going back to being friends was almost too big to face. He could forget about it, and they could go back to being coolly polite while the others looked on in confusion. It would be doable, maybe, but could he live with it?

"I don't know?" he finally admitted. It came out as more of a question than a statement.

"I can work with that," Willow said. "Here's what I need you to do."

In the space of another hour he had a hotel room she had reserved for him and had orders not to come out of said room until at least noon on Saturday.

"I want you two able to talk to each other," she said by way of explanation as he walked to his hotel. "Give her enough time to process what she said and feel bad about it, and for you to cool down about the vision thing and quit being so overprotective."

"Willow," he said in protest "the vision thing is..."

"A thing," she said shortly. By now he could tell she was channeling her inner Glinda. "We handle things together all the time. Sometimes each of us has to be reminded of that." She clucked her tongue in frustration. "Let her bury herself in research mode tonight so she has something to show you in the afternoon. She won't be so quick to get angry again if she has some work to show."

"So she gets to be confident before she apologizes. What am I getting out of this?" he asked, gesturing with the phone. "She gets productive and I get to cool my heels in some hotel room."

"Not just _any_ hotel room, but a nice fancy one! The Council is calling this a mental health day," Willow said soothingly.

Okay, he supposed that was a good enough of a description as anything. Still not the point perhaps, but Willow didn't stop for him to tell her that.

"You get a chance to let yourself go for a night and not have to worry. Order room service, watch some TV. Just don't raid the mini-bar. I can't justify that much without talking to Giles."

"Are you hacking again?" he asked, suspicions firmly raised.

"Just a little bit," she admits. "Nothing that the others haven't done for themselves, really."

"Riiight," he said, trying to hold back another laugh. "Fess up, Miss Nosy. You only became a hacker to meddle in everyone's life."

"Duh!" she said, laughing.

He joined her in another laugh before he entered the hotel lobby, a few of the guests and employees give him odd looks. Despite that, once he showed his ID and mentioned a reservation he was swept upstairs into a nice suite-style hotel room. He took Willow's advice: lounged around, ordered room service. And because they both might need the extra good karma, he stayed away from the mini-fridge.


	8. Chapter 8

Title: Old Stories (8/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. Thanks for all of the reviews and welcome to you new readers. If you get the chance give "It's About You" a listen, in my mind it sums up the Xander/Dawn relationship.

Special thanks to my Beta DropEdge, you were a big part in making this more awesome than it has any right to be.

It was difficult, but Xander had followed Willows instructions to the letter. At 12:01 he placed a call for a cab just before stepping outside his hotel room. The ride for the most part had been uneventful—long, but uneventful. He couldn't prove it, but it seemed likely the cabby, once he saw the hotel at which he was picking up his charge, decided Xander needed the _extremely scenic_ tour of Lima. Instead of getting upset, he would learn his lesson; in the future when he stormed out of a place, he would make sure to take his damn car.

Despite this new resolve, it was 1:30 when the driver finally decided to drop Xander off at Dawn's apartment. After paying the driver, he decided to tip the man; lessons should always be paid for. Straightening, Xander took a deep breath and began walking up the path to the door.

His hand was almost on the doorknob and ready to turn before what he was about to do caught up with him. Under any other circumstances he wouldn't have hesitated to enter another one of the old Scooby's homes. They all did it, usually giving nothing more than a warning phone call or a knock. But after Buffy walked in on Willow once when she was with her newest girlfriend, it was decided all around that a courtesy knock was essential.

This was more than that. Courtesy knock or not, part of him just wanted to grab his car and drive back to Cleveland. Easier, sure; they could always talk about it later. But, well, it felt like giving Fate the biggest middle finger he could manage.

He and Dawn had been lucky not having to fix things for a year. He squinted his eye against the light of the afternoon sun. Absently, he wished once again he could find a pair of sunglasses he could wear with the eye patch. He took a deep breath and gave the door a solid knock. "Later" was too expensive.

It took another knock before he heard movement in the apartment. He resisted the urge to peek in one of the windows when he saw the curtain twitch, followed by the rattle of the door chain. As the door opened he could tell she was ready for an argument; her stance was too squared and her eyes were squinted a bit too much. Even with the light her cheeks were flushed. _Was that ink on her cheeks?_

"Hey," he said quietly. "Mind if I come in?"

She opened the door without a word and stood aside. Daylight or not, some Sunnydale habits never die. As he stepped past her he thought he might have heard a quiet, "Oh, thank god."

He absently noted the radio playing in the background as he surveyed the aftermath of another Summers Research Session. Books were arranged in seemingly haphazard piles around the living room. Piled like debris against the far wall were books that had lived short lives as projectiles, if the dents in the wall were any guide. He could only assume books actually near or on furniture had some relevance—that, or her throwing arm was tired.

He turned around and faced her, leaning against the back of the couch and resisting the urge to cross his arms over his chest. They spent a good amount of time staring at each other, and he couldn't quite hide his concern when she wavered a little before seemingly nonchalantly leaning against the wall.

"So," he said with a nervous croak, "how do we do this?"

"Do what?" Those two simple words held a world of confusion and traces of anger.

"I don't know," he said, sighing. "I'm not sure what we _are _doing. I could leave, and we could pretend the whole fight never happened?"

He almost missed the tiny flicker of anguish on her face.

"Or," Xander said, his voice hesitantly hopeful, "we could try to figure things out. You know, act the like the grown-ups we pretend to be." The last was followed by a self-deprecating grin.

She gave him a quick nod yes and her shoulders relaxed. It was all he could do not to grin like an idiot. Dawn went to the coffee pot and poured two large mugs. He sipped quietly at his rich, black peace offering while she adjusted hers with milk and sugar according to some internal arcane formula.

It was kind of pathetic at first; for a while they stared at each other across the table. They both made some false starts, but those were quickly hidden behind sips of coffee. Rather than watch her squirm—and part of him _really_ wanted to—he started things off. Apologies had always been hard for that side of the "family."

"Look, yesterday…" He paused, running his hand through his hair before trying again. "Hell, not just yesterday, but this whole last year. We took a bad situation and made it about a thousand times worse, and I don't want to keep going on like that. I'm not really sure what to do, but I know we need to do something."

"Well, for what it's worth I don't think we should do the silent treatment thing again," Dawn said dryly.

"True. It was a hell of a lot of work pretending we weren't mad at each other," he said, giving her a small but pained smile.

She smiled at him, and for a brief moment they shared that smile before hiding behind the coffee. After a few moments of silence Dawn raised her head up and looked him in the eye.

"So what do we do instead?" she asked, sounding a little lost.

"Let's try something crazy," he replied quietly. "Instead of trying to fix everything that happened this past year at once, let's take it a day at a time. You know: civil conversations, talking to each other—all the stuff we used to do before things got 'complicated.'"

Dawn gave a quick snort at that. "'Complicated.' I think that wins the award for understatement of the year."

He couldn't help but shrug at that and smile. "What can I say? It's a gift."

He took a deep breath and let himself get serious again. "All kidding aside, I don't know what's going to happen with this whole thing. But I want to try. I don't know if we'll get back together or go on to become just good friends again, but right now the result almost doesn't matter. All I really know is that I miss you."

He could feel himself starting to tear up a little, but he told himself they are manly tears.

"You jerk," she muttered without menace, her own tears and sniffling robbing the words of any venom as she wiped at her eyes. "I missed you, too."

They don't hug after that. He wasn't sure where that would lead right now, so instead he offered to help her clean up the kitchen. It was awkward at first, and neither was really sure how close to stand next to the other. The kitchen was so small that eventually they had to concede defeat and work in proximity. Soon they stood shoulder to shoulder at the sink, attacking the breakfast dishes.

Well, _he_ was attacking the dishes while she loaded the dishwasher, just one of the many minor tasks he got her to do. He didn't want to sideline her, but hell, she _wa__s_ still recovering. Xander had no doubt she had caught on, but either in the interest of the recovering friendship (or, even less likely, her own health), she kept up the pretense. It was also a factor that she just didn't want to do housework. When he accused her of that, he got a wet dishrag in the face.

It was almost three by the time the kitchen and surrounding areas were as spotless as they could both agree. She still wouldn't let him anywhere near the chaos in the living room, and he wisely decided not to press the issue. She dialed out for pizza, almost certainly knowing the number by memory, but once again in the name of peace he pretended not to notice. While she was on the phone he took his first good look at the various stacks around the living room.

Some of the stacks were obvious enough: information on the town and surrounding areas. Nearby in some odd geometry was another stack of books on visions and dream imagery. What he didn't notice until walking amongst the stacks was the sheer amount of computer printouts. Skimming over the tops of the stacks, he saw the subjects were wide ranging, from urban legends to someone's unfinished thesis paper on the mathematics of music.

To Xander's eyes it looked as though she was grasping at straws, but that's why Dawn was the actual Watcher and he considered himself a Watcher Adjunct. Even after all those years and the things he had done, he still got a little intimidated by all the degrees floating around the average Council office. The Watchers looked down on him as just a working man, and it made them uncomfortable. The stuffed shirts wouldn't admit it, but sometimes they needed the guy who just did what needed to be done.

The phone hitting the cradle snapped him out of his reverie. He turned around, carefully avoiding upsetting the fragile towers, to see Dawn watching him with a bemused expression on her face.

"I know, knock anything over and I'm a dead man," he said, grinning, and for a brief second he couldn't block the image of nudging a short pile of papers just to see what she would do.

"Damn straight," she said with a smile and a nod. "But if you can be good and not knock anything over, after we eat I'll tell you what all that means."

Wonder of wonders, he managed a clean getaway.

Dawn wasn't really sure how to do this. Today was a big enough deal just based on the fact they might actually reconcile. Now she had to make her newest theory make sense when she still had only a weak grasp on it herself. Offering to tell him had just been a way to get him away from the research; she must still not be one hundred percent if she didn't expect him to actually listen.

So here they were in her kitchen/dining room, the remnants of a pizza in front of them and the looming presence of all that ink and paper off to her side. She got to her feet and took a deep breath.

"First things first. This theory is insanely rough; like, so rough I almost don't want to tell you. But here goes."

It goes like this: At some point while she was trying to puzzle out the meaning of the various components of her vision she hit on the idea that instead of being related to physical or mystical presences, all the imagery was related to emotion. The nearest she could tell, the swamp in her dreams represented strong primal emotions. All the lights were the more subtle emotions; they had trouble even existing in the powerful emotional overload. This led her to a collection of articles by a shaman in the Southwest detailing the effects of an overdose of strong emotion on a ritual.

The ritual was supposed to be routine: just a standard protection and thanks-for-the-crops kind of thing. Unknown to the shaman, one of the chosen dancers was working his way toward divorcing his wife. The ritual required all the participants to dance joyfully, or at the very least serenely, and at first all went well. The energy gathered and the shaman worked on shaping it. Unknown to the shaman, a trickster spirit had entered the circle, breaking through the weak link caused by the future divorcee. Long story short, when the shaman released the energy the power flowed out but was tainted by the grief and anger of that one man. Sparked to new heights by the spirit, it infected the other members.

The shaman reported that after the ritual all those involved felt more drained than usual. The shaman himself couldn't access his own energies, and all involved fell into a deep depression. People sickened, crops and animals died, and nobody had any explanation. One night while entering a questing trance, the shaman found the afterimage of his protection spell surrounding the village. The spot representing the depressed man was acting like a leak in a dam. Not only were positive emotions flowing out, but so was the magic linked to that emotion.

The shaman didn't detail exactly how/if he had fixed things, but she had sent him several messages asking for more information. The nearest she could tell, this could be one of the things happening in Lima. The strong emotions were surging around and the magic was caught up in its wake, so it was flowing somewhere: if only she knew _where_ that theoretical spot was.

Taken by itself the article was another piece of minor information, but when put together with what she experienced during practice it was at least a step in the right direction. The kids had been getting along and singing well together, and as the joy spread something came in to smother it. Why the Key would care about that she didn't know, but if it cared about this then it couldn't be ignored.

"So that's the gist of it," she said, shuffling her stack of notes. "Like I said, it's pretty thin. But I think I'm on the right track."

"It is kind of thin," he murmured, looking pained as he said it. "I'm curious about one thing, though. Could your music kids have anything to do with this?"

Dawn looked at Xander skeptically before speaking.

"The Glee kids?" She gave a dismissive shrug. "I doubt it. I mean, they were just there."

"But you said the dancers in the circle had something to do with it." Xander said as he leaned forward to look at her notes.

"The tribe's dancers were trained," she said, grabbing said notes out of his hand before the pages were too mixed up. "And all of them had been involved with the ritual before. As far as I can tell, not one of those kids even knows what a magic spell is outside of movies or videogames."

"I never said they were doing it on purpose," Xander said reasonably. "They could just be in the right place at the wrong time."

"Maybe,"she said doubtfully, "but if they're involved, why didn't they kick anything up before now?"

"They might have," he gently insisted. "You _have_ been a little preoccupied."

"All right," she conceded with a wave of her hand. "Since I'm going to be around them anyway, it wouldn't hurt to keep an eye out for unexpected mojo."

Xander accepted his victory with a small bow. "And on the plus side, even if they aren't the cause of your mojo problem, those kids are still a good resource."

"Right," she said, slumping into a chair. "My Watcher spy corp consists of two widely outspoken future divas, a goth girl who stutters, an extremely fashionable kid who dresses to stand out, and a kid in a wheelchair. Hell, the best case might be the new kid. Quarterback of the football team; I think he's even the captain." She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Not that you would know it, since he spends a lot of his time doing whatever anyone tells him to do."

"Fine, so your Avengers need a little assembling. Just don't count them out." Xander stretched toward the pizza box and snagged a slice. "After all, Giles eventually found a use for me."

"Mm hmm," she murmured while stretching for her own slice. "You set a high standard when you did the snack runs. I sometimes forgot to get Giles his jelly doughnuts."

Xander toasted her with the pizza slice. "Don't forget the snack cakes. It wasn't an apocalypse without Ring-Dings."

Dawn returned the toast with a grin and leaned back in her chair. Between them they managed to polish off the pizza and move into the living room. After a few hours it didn't look like a library threw up but more like the living room of a slightly eccentric teacher.

"So what's the game plan now?" Xander asked while shelving some of the remnants of Mt. Libris.

Dawn paused from where she was packing spent ink cartridges into envelopes. "Not too much. I have to take some time and make some actual lesson plans. These last couple of weeks killed my stock of emergency videos. It turns out I have to do some actual work before I can safely cover my ass again." She tried to keep her voice casual. "What about you?"

He didn't look at her and instead kept shelving books, the silence stretching on. She was about to change the subject when a beeping noise from her laptop rescued them.

"Wonder what that's about?" she asked the air, trying to sound casually interested.

The beeping let her know she had gotten an email in her teacher's account. She took a few minutes to pull up the server, and in addition to the normal announcements she found an email from Will.

_Dawn,_

_I thought you might be going a little stir-crazy by now, and since you couldn't come to Carmel I decided to bring Carmel to you. Here's a video of the performance today. One of the kids said they found it online, and I really didn't want to ask._

_Will_

Underneath the message was a YouTube link.

"Want to check out the competition?" she asked Xander, even as she clicked on the link.

He came over and leaned just over her shoulder to check out the screen while the video loaded, and she couldn't help the fact she tensed up a little due to his proximity. The video was only a little grainy, but whoever was doing the filming—probably Artie, judging by the angle—gave her an unobstructed view of the stage as seen from the aisle.

Even heard through the crappy pick-up of a cellphone mic, she could tell

Carmel's vocals were excellent and the choreography was nothing short of impressive. She would be the first to admit she might be getting way too far into the whole show choir thing, but when the kid on screen did two sets of triple back springs even Xander gave a low whistle.

"These guys _are_ human, right?" Xander asked, his voice full of disbelief.

"I think so," Dawn said smiling. "They just had a lot of training."

She felt rather than saw Xander shake his head in amazement and started playing the video again, then played it one more time before she started taking notes. An unknown number of playbacks later, the little notebook was full of notes and someone has turned on the light over the table. She looked up from her laptop and stretched, trying to work out the kink in her back.

"Welcome back," Xander said from his position in front of the TV, the local news anchor booming in a resonant voice.

"Sorry about that," she said around a slight blush. "I didn't mean to get so caught up in things."

"It's cool," he said, giving her a dismissive wave of his hand. "I saw you getting sucked in and it looked like you needed your space. So I decided to veg out until you came up for air."

"And now that I have?" she asked nervously.

"Now that you have, I just wanted to tell you that I'm going to get out of town tonight. You have a lot going on, and I have a few things to do now that you're feeling better."

"All right," she said, trying to hide her disappointment. "Need any help with your stuff?"

"Nah, it's cool. It's all in my hotel room." He heaved himself to his feet and started walking to the door. "Come on, I'll give you a ride to the school and your car, grab my stuff and get back to Cleveland."

Xander drove Dawn to her car in near silence. She didn't speak except to give him directions. As they approached the faculty lot she absently recognized "It's About You" by Train playing on the radio. Her car was apparently unharmed, but as they drove up Xander insisted on checking the exterior before he let her out of the car.

They stood in the lot facing each other, his car radio the only sound in the night. After all they have been through, it was scary how bad they were at proper goodbyes.

"Xan," she said tentatively, breaking the silence. "If you think you're going to be around in a few weeks, the kids are putting on a concert thing."

'Concert thing.' Ugh. This just kept getting more awkward.

Instead of busting her on her word choice he just smiled at her. "Are you asking me on a date? In public?" He mimed shock at the last.

"Shut up!" she said, blushing hotly now. "I've never done anything like this before. You know, music without demons? And I want someone I lo—_trust_ to be there."

"Sounds cool," Xander said and then he sighed, "Time for me to go, take care of yourself." with that he stepped forward arms reaching for a hug.

She mirrored his action, going for a friendly hug. Right before they released she would later swear she heard Xander say, "Oh, screw it," and he kissed her softly on the cheek.

"What was that?" she asked stupidly, putting her hand to her cheek only to find her face warmed by another blush.

"I don't know," he said with a broad grin, getting into his car and closing the door. "Let's call it a good start."


	9. Chapter 9

Title: Old Stories (9/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary: Dawn Summers, Watcher is assigned to Lima, Ohio.  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. Thanks for all of the reviews and welcome to you new readers. Some dialogue is taken from the episode "Pilot-Director's Cut." These aren't my characters or worlds I am just playing around with them.

Work on Monday should have been boring and/or grindy; after all, Dawn was technically healthy again and in these walls the weird kiss in the parking lot never happened. _Focus._ Yes, that was exactly what she needed: to focus on the normal—well, as normal as anything got around McKinley. Case in point: as she walked the halls right before her lunch period and turned the corner right into the aftermath of a slushie skirmish.

In an instant she snapped into Watcher mode and surveyed the wreckage. The colors of choice today seemed to be red and purple, causing the entire hall to resemble a blood clot. There were no students around, of course; that would make things too easy. Dawn decided to sweep for survivors in the nearest set of bathrooms. When she approached the bathroom alcove she was rewarded with four sets of footprints heading into the girls' room. Taking a brief look inside the boys' restroom only to find it empty, she paused, collected herself and strode into the girls' restroom.

She really should have known. Gathered around the cluster of sinks were Rachel, Tina, Mercedes and… _Kurt? _The quartet was so focused on washing what she hoped was just slushie out of Tina's and Mercedes's hair that they never looked up. _Then again_, she thought unkindly before she could catch herself, _if __**I**__ had been in the room that close to Mercedes complaining, I might have missed an entrance, too._

"Honestly, Cedes, if you don't stop I'm going to leave you the way you are," Kurt chided his overly vocal friend. "Rachel, hand me the shampoo in my bag."

Before Rachel could untangle herself from Tina, Dawn had already snatched the shampoo from Kurt's admittedly beautiful bag and walked up to stand next to the singer.

"Here you are, Kurt," she said, handing him the bottle and voice brimming with casual helpfulness. "Anything else I can grab for you guys?"

Dawn had to give him credit for quick reflexes; he had just grabbed the bottle from her hand before his eyes widened in shock.

"Ms. Summers?," he squeaked as his face paled to transparency and his compatriots paused at their posts.

"Hey, guys," she greeted them with a wave, as if finding four of her kids in a spa session was perfectly natural. Well, it might just be at that, and some of her good humor cooled at that thought.

"So, who's going to tell me what really happened?" Dawn asked after giving Mercedes and Tina a chance to get clear of sinks so they wouldn't drown due to shock.

The quartet traded concerned looks with one another, but nobody spoke up. Dawn crossed her arms over her chest and gave the students her best glare. These kids were _good_—they all shrank back under a gaze she had worked on to quell junior Slayers—but nobody talked. _Time to get a little __creative_, she thought to herself.

"That's cool," she said, once again feigning only casual interest. "If you guys want to come with me, I'll get my detention forms and I can get to lunch." She stopped and licked her lips almost absently. "Coach Tanaka is picking up Chinese. I just love sesame chicken. Don't you?"

**That** got them talking.

"Detention? For what?" Kurt asked, sounding wounded.

"Hold up!" Mercedes piped in, shifting toward righteous anger.

"W-w-what?" Tina murmured, confused and a little hurt.

And, of course, Rachel of all people couldn't let it pass. "Detention? Ms. Summers, what did we do to deserve that?"

"Oh, I don't know, guys. I can think of a couple things." Dawn began to tick them off on her fingers "The mess in the hall, cutting class…" She stopped a moment, as if thinking. "Oh, and then there's the little fact of your being in the girls' room, Kurt."

The mixed look of hurt and shock on their faces almost made Dawn break character. She was trying to figure out how exactly to make "just kidding" sound professional when the door opened and Artie rolled in, lap loaded down with clothes.

"Ah, yes. The fifth Beatle," she mused as Artie skidded to a stop. "I should have known."

She let the kids stew for a minute while Artie numbly handed out clothes to the four kids in the room before clapping to get everyone's attention. "Okay, guys, here's how it's going to go. Someone has to tell me something. There's too much mess out there to pass off as nothing."

Dawn watched for a moment as they passed the denial ball back and forth to each other. After the third pass she decided it was time to take a calculated risk.

"Rachel, do you want to tell me why you threw slushies all over the hallway?"

Dawn didn't really listen as Rachel began her earnest (and possibly Oscar-winning) speech dramatically proclaiming her innocence; instead, she watched the four others. Rachel was at least two minutes into her denial and diatribe when the other kids began to overcome their panic and catch onto the teacher's plan. Rachel was on a roll by then, however, so she missed the anxious will-you-please-shut-the-fuck-up-_**now**_ looks her fellow glee clubbers shot her way.

"It's _really_ unfair, Ms. Summers. We were leaving your class, and then these brutish thugs came up and threw their slushies at **us**."

_There we go_, Dawn thought. She raised her hand in a gesture for silence she had learned from a music theater major with whom she had roomed _very_ briefly.

"Jocks, huh?" She tried to sound skeptical. "I really hope there's a good reason for them to do this."

"Like those fools ever need a reason," Mercedes grumbled. Then she winced, realizing she had spoken the thought aloud.

"True," Dawn admitted. "But this is a little extreme, even for them. What's up?"

"Near as we can tell, this is payback for Finn," Artie half-mumbled, not looking her in the face. "The other jocks blame us for Finn joining Glee."

"Right. So they blame you, and the next logical step is to give the hallway a slushie makeover." She paused to pinch the bridge of her nose. "Awesome. Can you guys give me any names?" she asked, not really expecting an answer.

Five heads shook no in numb unison.

Dawn straightened up and looked over the kids, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice.

"I get it: you don't want to get caught for getting anyone in trouble." Dawn stepped away from the wall and spoke gently. "That won't always work, guys. I can keep you out of trouble today because anyone with half a brain can tell you guys were the targets, but silence isn't always going to be your best solution. Running from things only works for so long."

The kids all looked at her with a wary but respectful silence.

"Fine," she sighed, then looked at Kurt. "One last question. Why _are_ you in the girls' bathroom?"

"Have you seen the guys' bathroom," he answered with a scornful shudder. "Plus, the lighting in here is better."

Dawn just nodded at that, though she couldn't shake the feeling Kurt wasn't telling her everything.

"Fair enough," Dawn conceded wryly, "Just don't let me catch you in the girls' room again without a good reason, or refusing to leave if a girl asks you to."

Given everything they have been through today—and the fact it was time for lunch—she almost ignores Kurt's relieved sigh.

"All right, guys. Here's how this is going to work." Dawn once again leaned against the wall, watching the little group. "Considering we have all of three minutes until lunch period, it would be a waste of time to send you guys back to class. We lucked out. Most of you missed my class, so today only I'm going to excuse it. Artie, tell Mr. Soloman to talk to me if he has any problems."

All the kids looked stunned at not getting written up, and Dawn wondered if she was losing her edge.

"What are you waiting on, folks? Get changed, go to lunch, and I'll see everyone at Glee." She started walking toward the door and turned around. "Kurt, Artie, come on."

She ignored the exasperated sighs from the boys and waited until they entered their own bathroom before leaning against a slushie-free portion of the wall. The janitors had already moved in, and the hall was filled with the sound and smell of wet mops on linoleum.

A few moments later all the kids poured out of their collective bathrooms, and she handed out hall passes to the group. She watched them head down the hall, and when they turned the corner she thought she could hear the sounds of hushed arguing. As Dawn continued down the hall she couldn't stop the smile on her face.

Dawn crammed the last of an eggroll into her mouth as she left the faculty lounge. Dealing with the kids had cut into her lunch time, but according to Ken she hadn't missed that much. Will had apparently decided to skip on Chinese to work in his office, and Emma had spent most of the meal staring at her own Tupperware dishes and sometimes looking sideways at Dawn's own meal.

Aside from a rejected offer to share, the meal had been pretty quiet. Dawn avoided asking about the weekend; she didn't want to risk getting Emma upset with Ken nearby. Plus, Emma would probably turn the tables—and Dawn was nowhere near finished processing exactly what was happening between her and Xander.

_That's weird_, she thought to herself when she saw the note on the choir room door telling everyone to go to the auditorium. _The least Will could have done was given me some kind of notice if we were doing a stage rehearsal._

She cleared the auditorium doors just as the bell rang, and instead of being arranged on stage all the kids were gathered in a cluster on the second rise of seats. Artie, Tina, Rachel, Kurt and Mercedes were all dressed in their "emergency" outfits and sitting in a line, while Finn hung back a row behind them.

Dawn must have just missed whatever opening Will had given them, judging by the front five's shocked looks and Artie's hurt, "You're leaving us?"

_The hell__?_

She stood frozen in the doorway as Will told the kids he wasn't leaving because of them. Granted, he didn't tell them why; instead, he told them some generalized stuff about responsibility. When Rachel protested his sudden leaving not being fair, Dawn was forced to agree. She started forward as Rachel continued her protest.

"We can't do this without you," Rachel said, and Dawn could see the lights reflecting in the wetness in her eyes.

"It will be okay, Rachel," Will responded softly. "Ms. Summers will lead the class for now. I promise to find you guys a great replacement before I go."

All the kids' attention focused on Will, so while Finn asked if he had to be in Glee anymore Dawn took a moment to put on her "most supportive" face. The kids needed it more than she needed to come down raging. So while Will continued to talk about how hard this choice was for him, she repressed her confusion. Before anyone could react, she stepped in.

"Why don't you guys spend the rest of the period in the library looking up some songs we can use," she said, sounding way more enthusiastic than she had ever been, even at fourteen. "Mr. Schue and I need to go over some last minute details." She shot Will a glance that might have been a glare.

The kids picked up on the glare more than her speech itself, and as they turned quickly to grab their bags—pointedly _not_ looking at Will and Dawn—she stood a little on tiptoe to murmur in Will's ear through clenched smiling teeth.

"Office. _**NOW**_."

She let him precede her out of the room, keeping him moving with the force of her glare alone. When they reached the hallway entrance to the choir room office she let him enter first and take a seat at the desk. She stepped into the cramped room and closed both the hallway and choir room doors.

Dawn leaned against the choir-side door, fist clenched as she leaned back.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell that was about?" she asked in a quiet voice she reserved for fieldwork.

"Terri's pregnant," Will said, as if it answered everything.

"Congratulations," she said offhandedly. "That still doesn't explain why I walked in on a group of kids who looked like they'd been told that every single Christmas has been canceled."

"Let me try again," Will said tiredly. "Terri's pregnant, and I can't provide for my family on a teacher's salary."

"So what are you going to do instead?" she asked.

"My Ohio CPA license is still valid. I think that I can get a spot at HW Menken."

"An accountant, Will? _You?_" Her voice oozed skepticism. "I've seen your books, Will. That's why you have me do them instead."

He sighed, clearly frustrated. "I guess I'll have to get better at it, then. It's the best option I have to make some money and take care of my family."

"That's nice. You go ahead and do that. And, hey!" she said with false enthusiasm, "when you go just leave me with six kids whose hopes and dreams you stirred up and on a whim decided to throw in the trash."

"It's not like that, Dawn," Will said, his voice rising and his patience clearly gone. "Maybe when you grow up a little and have to face the fact that someone else depends entirely on you, you might just understand."

She stared at him open-mouthed, her hands clenched so tightly into fists she could feel her nails digging into her palms. That bit of pain cleared away the shock in the heat of anger.

"You're such a fucking **hypocrite**, Scheuster!" she raged, voice matching his decibel for decibel. "Convenient as hell that you forgot what you said to me when all this started."

Her voice dropped into a low mockery of his own. "'If you don't want to do this and you come in and hurt these kids… Well, you _really_ don't want to hurt these kids'." Her voice returned to its normal pitch and she pointed at him. "I know you remember that, Will. Talking big like you actually deserve to be Teacher of the Year. You really fooled everyone."

"You don't understand. I have priorities, Dawn. My responsibility is to my kid." He said the last like a mantra.

"It is," she conceded. "I just hope your sense of priority stays this focused when things get rough with a baby in the house."

Will's face darkened. "You better not be saying what I think you're saying, Summers."

"Nope. I guess I don't need to," she said coldly, looking him in the eyes. "Enjoy crunching those numbers, Will. I hope it doesn't get too risky for you."

Will just stared at her for a moment in shock, then grabbed his bag and went to the hallway door. Before he turned the knob he paused to look at her again, and for a brief moment her vision shifted. In that flicker she saw something bright behind his eyes before the slamming of the door brought her back to her senses, shaking.

She was still shaking five minutes later but she couldn't tell if it was anger or vision induced. Where the hell did he get off lecturing her about responsibility? He wasn't the one at Sunnydale, Cleveland or the seemingly hundreds of other places. Her legs still shook, so while taking a seat at the desk she almost missed the sounds of movement on the choir side of the door.

"Anyone out there had better not be there when I open that door, or they will be _very _sorry," she snapped toward the door while she tried to ignore the shuffle of shoes and possibly wheels.

Dawn tried her best to keep Glee going, but practice that afternoon had been lackluster at best. She just didn't have the necessary musical background, so she let Rachel conduct the actual numbers. Needless to say, this decision wasn't widely endorsed; she wasn't that shocked when on Wednesday Ken had stopped her in the hall, telling her Finn had transferred back to his gym class. She just nodded numbly and signed the form he had handed her. There was no sense in holding Finn in Glee when it looked as if Will wasn't even attempting to find his replacement.

Granted, they weren't actually talking to each other; anything they needed to say they sent by very formal emails or Emma. Poor Emma. She was trying to pretend nothing had actually happened, but Dawn could see the stress holding the facade was having on her petite friend. Whenever they spoke. if the "p-word" came up Emma would vanish to prepare for a student interview.

Dawn was reaching the point of putting out the word for a new co-director herself. She was just about to step into the choir room office when the too-familiar sound of polyester tracksuit rustled next to her.

"Hey, kiddo," Sue beamed, putting a red-and-white clad arm across her shoulders. "I heard about all the hubbub going on with your little club, and I might have a solution for you. Let's step into my office."


	10. Chapter 10

Title: Old Stories (10/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. Thanks for all of the reviews and welcome to you new readers. Some dialogue is taken from the episode "Pilot-Director's Cut." These aren't my characters or worlds I am just playing around with them. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

_The rain of a late summer shower rattled against the windows of Giles's study as Dawn sat buried in one of his overstuffed chairs, covered by a blanket and with the fire roaring; even in summer Giles's study was slightly chilly. The man in question sat behind his barricade of a desk dealing with a late international meeting._

_Given the snatches of Japanese she heard through the receiver it was early on the other side, but Giles always held meetings when they were convenient for him. "A privilege of both rank and age," he would remark piously (and a little smugly) in response to complaints that were mostly yawns instead of words._

_Dawn watched, mildly amazed, as the same man who after all these years still had problems checking his email navigated the nearly endless drawers, cabinets and cubbyholes of his desk without thinking. Pens, documents, even snacks and lozenges appeared without the slightest sign of effort. Dawn smiled in amusement as Giles nearly knocked over a picture of the Scoobies, minus Xander, at her graduation._

_Apparently Giles had satisfied or frustrated the person on the other end of the line until they ended the call. Either way, once the phone was in i__ts cradle he removed his glasses, leaned back in his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose before sending a quick page to Andrew to hold all calls that weren't apocalypses. Apocolypi? Whatever__;__ they never really figured that one out._

_She was due to leave in two days, and Giles had called her into his study for one last chat. They traded pleasantries while the kettle boiled on his little kitchenette, and she shared with him information about Buffy she didn't include in official reports. Giles returned the favor about the rest of the Scoobies, and she had to remember to keep smiling whenever he mentioned Xander._

_After the kettle hissed and tea was laid out, the topic shifted to logistics; nothing surprising, since all this had been laid out in her paperwork. This, of course, was just Giles's way of trying to ensure everything was going to be okay, so she humored him. Dawn felt herself starting to nod off and tried to shift position without being too obvious, but after she had readjusted Giles just smiled wryly and set his cup and saucer down._

_"Apparently I have carried on long enough," Giles said with that same wry grin. "Forgive me. It's just that in a few days you will be off on your first mission as a Watcher, and part of me still has problems believing it."_

_Giles chuck__l__ed and took a breath as if bracing himself. "This is __in __no way a slight against you, Dawn. But, well you __**are**__ the last of those I consider my children to grow up and face the world. Part of me has a hard time reconciling the fact that all of __you are grown up now, and a small part of me, I suppose, always shall." Giles smile became sadder, maybe a little wistful._

_From anyone else that little speech might have earned a glare or worse, but this was _Giles,_ so instead she sat there wrapped in the __bemused affection of the older man and trying to think of something to say to reassure him._

_"Giles, I _am_ leaving. But I'm leaving with everything you've taught me. What else could I need?"_

_Giles's face darkened, and for a split second she worried he had thought she was being sarcastic. But she realized his anger was turned inward. This wasn't the classic anger of Ripper, the part of him that came out whenever his loved ones were threatened. Instead, this was something colder._

_"I wish that were true. In fact, there is one thing I have yet to teach you. And I won't unless you ask me to."_

_Did she really want to know? Not really, but she was already in this deep. Steeling herself, she sat forward in her chair and opened her mouth….._

"So what's this great plan of yours, Sue?" Dawn asked impatiently.

She shifted on the hard plastic chair, trying to find an angle and level of squint to block the light reflecting off the trophies arranged all over the office. No not just _arranged_; that was too simple. The office was a trophy room, leaving just enough room for Sue's desk, two chairs and a StairMaster. The light wasn't all that annoying, but it beat looking into Sue's smiling face. Whenever she did, that Nietzsche quote, "If you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you," would pop into her mind on auto-repeat.

"It's simple, Summers," Sue said, her voice brimming with that damned helpfulness. "You and Scheuster have given this whole Glee club thing your best shot. Especially given how I forced you into the whole thing." Sue paused at this to unwrap a Carbogel and toss it in her mouth. "Which frankly was in no way personal. Your little assignment was starting to make things difficult for me, and I had to deal with it."

"I'm sorry," Dawn interrupted, accidentally looking Sue in the eye (_if you gaze into the abyss) _before focusing on a trophy rack. "How exactly was calling my fitness to be a teacher and my reputation into question not personal?"

"Bah," Sue barked dismissively. "That wasn't personal; that was just business. What happened when that little tramp Kerrigan dropped out of my squad to scoot around on the ice—_that_ was personal."

Sue paused to let that sink in, and overly dramatic or not Dawn can't stop a shiver. The only sound came from the TV in the corner, repeating Cheerio routines in a masturbatory cycle.

Sue let the silence drag on for another minute. "I see that you understand. Now to the matter at hand." She leaned back in her chair. "Thanks to the fact that Scheuster has chosen to spawn, you're the only person who can decide the fate of that little group of karaoke wannabes. I could just wait for the club to die its natural death, but then I wouldn't have an outlet to send the dregs of McKinley."

Sue leaned forward in her chair. "It's the best thing for both of us. Let the little songbirds gather and let them perform at Cornfest, like Ryerson did, and you get to work on that paper on socioeconomic hooey you wanted before you crossed me."

"Well, that's quite an offer, Sue. It has everything you want," Dawn responded with eyebrows raised. Crossing her arms, she said, "Do the kids actually get anything out of this deal? Frankly, this just makes your and my lives a little easier."

"Pretty much," Sue said with a slight shrug. "What? You're afraid of using a few kids?"

_"Giles it isn't fear if what you're doing is wrong," Dawn snapped hotly from her chair. "I won't use people for my own benefit."_

_"After all this time I can't quite believe __you of all people are still this naïve, Da__wn," Giles said tiredly from his own armchair._ _"We are Watchers. The fact we use people is inherent in the very title. We work from the sidelines, we manipulate. Point of fact: we were guilty of that crime and much worse when our forebears celebrated what __the Shadowmen did by binding the demon to the First Slayer. The only thing we can do now is make that poor girl's sacrifice worth something."_

_"I get that,__ Giles, but that was then. Now instead of one Slayer we have hundreds. Hell, in this city alone we have more Slayers than the Council ever recorded. With these numbers, are you telling me we're __**still**__ using them?"_

_"Of course we are, Dawn." Giles sounded exasperated. "One day, perhaps, Slayers and Watchers will enter into a relationship of equals, but at present this organization is geared toward directing the power of the Slayer to where it will be most useful. Now is not that time."_

_Dawn's heart sank and she couldn't stop her next question. "What about Sunnydale?" Her voice had broken in a harsh croak. "After all this time, can you say that you were using us too?"_

_Giles removed his glasses and began to clean them. _

_"Giles!" she cried out, desperation making her voice almost unintelligible._

_Giles continued to polish his glasses, and when he replied his answer was so soft she almost missed it. "You know the answer to that." He sighed deeply, and his face was more wrinkled than she remembered._

_"Yes, Dawn, at the first I used them, and even now I use you all. The others know this to varying degrees, of course: Anya knew it from day one; Xander figured it out somewhere along the way; Buffy…" He sighed again. "I think Buffy on some level denies it even now. Willow figured it out after the fight with Glory, and I never knew if Tara realized it. I can only pray that by some small mercy she never realized it."_

_"But you saved our lives. We had to be more than tools to you." She hated herself for begging._

_"I love you all," Giles said, setting his glasses back on his face. "I can hope that will redeem me someday. Despite that love I have to make hard choices, including one about you Dawn. You know what I advised Buffy to do?"_

_"I know; Xander told__ me later." Something in her mind clicked with cold certainty. "Giles, you killed Ben. I mean, you told us you found him. But you killed him."_

_"I did," Giles confirmed, "and to keep Glory from coming back I would have done it a thousand times over. Don't judge me too harshly, Dawn. You never know what you will be called upon to do."_

Dawn walked the halls numbly after her meeting with Sue. The younger woman hadn't said a word in response to Sue's offer, and the coach had considered the matter settled. "We'll hash out the fine details once Scheuster is gone," Sue had promised, still grinning (_the abyss gazes also into you_).

She rushed for the courtyard now. She couldn't go home and shower, and after being in Sue's office this was the next best thing. Dawn rushed through a set of outside doors, only noting by reflex that she wasn't in an empty courtyard but the outside cafeteria extension. She stood still with her face to the sun, letting its warmth drive away her inner chill. She was starting to sweat when a voice called to her from across the courtyard.

"Dawn? Are you okay?" Emma asked.

Dawn opened her eyes and saw the petite redhead sitting alone among all the tables. Emma was working on some kind of book, which she shut frantically when Dawn drew nearer and noticed it was last year's _Thunderclap._ Weird.

"Hey Em," she said, trying to sound light. "I just needed some air; I didn't mean to disturb you."

"Oh, don't worry. You didn't," Emma said, even as she was trying to slide the yearbook into her bag.

"What's with the yearbook, Em?" Dawn asked casually. "Feeling a little nostalgic?"

"Something like that. It's part of a project I'm working on." Emma sounded a little too casual.

"That's cool. Anything I can do to help?" Dawn kept her questions as casual as possible.

"N-no." Emma was trying to slide the book out of sight even faster now. "I mean, it's all right. This is just a personal project." Emma was blushing now, and Dawn had a sinking feeling about how personal this project was.

"Emma," Dawn said seriously, "I hope this project isn't what I think it is. If so, this is all kinds of screwed up. It's every ugly kind of manipulative."

Emma's face broke for a second and Dawn was worried she was going to cry, but the little counselor found some internal steel and met Dawn's gaze.

"I appreciate the input, Dawn," Emma said coldly. "But I have to go and keep a dear friend from making the biggest mistake of his life. If you'll excuse me."

Emma gathered her belongings and her dignity and stormed off, leaving Dawn staring after her.

She broke the news to the kids during class. It turned out to be anticlimactic; besides some hurt looks they couldn't hide, they accepted the news numbly. Glee club was now just an after school club. She would stay on as an adviser, and they could play whatever sort of music they wanted, but they wouldn't be competing.

The rest of her day went by in a numb haze. Sitting at home, Dawn pulled up the almost-forgotten paper she had started upon first arriving in Lima. Looking at it now, she deleted the entire thing. An email about a late faculty meeting didn't improve her mood, and it made the prospect of staying up even less attractive. She didn't sleep well that night.

Morning came and went far too quickly, and Dawn ended up eating lunch in her classroom. The brief walk past Emma and Will in the break room during a coffee break had felt arctic. After lunch she prepared to go to the choir room but stopped before she turned the handle. Shaking her head, Dawn put her bags back down and returned to her seat, pulling out a new stack of quizzes that needed grading. She was halfway through the stack when a nervous knock made her look up.

Dawn looked up and was surprised to see Rachel, Tina and the rest of the former Glee kids minus Finn huddled around her classroom door.

"Ms. Summers," Rachel said confidently, "we really need to talk to you."

Dawn considered the group for a moment and watched them until they started fidgeting; she really should send them away, but they wanted to talk to her and she owed them.

"Come on in, guys. Take a seat," she said with an inviting wave.

Dawn waited for the group to shuffle in, and even as they took their seats she had no clue what they wanted. The shock she actually let them in the room must have induced amnesia, because no one in the group looked at her and instead got reacquainted with their shoes. Dawn didn't say anything but did look back at her paperwork, letting the group talk in its own time.

She was saved from actually having to say anything herself when Finn came barreling through her classroom door dressed in his gym clothes and sweating like he had run across the school—which he probably had.

"Sorry I'm late guys." He paused for breath. "It took a while to convince Coach Tanaka that Glee was still going on. Did you get to tell her yet?"

The response to Finn's question was a collective groan, and Dawn bit her lip to keep from laughing.

"Don't worry, Finn. You didn't miss anything." She gestured to a desk. "Grab a seat. You're the first one who told me anything_._"

As Finn took a seat, Dawn heard Mercedes grumble, "Smooth, whiteboy."

Dawn did her best to stifle another laugh, "Okay, guys. Since, apparently Glee is back, want to tell me what's up?"

"Well, Ms. Summers," Rachel began, "it isn't exactly that Glee is necessarily back, but that we want to give Mr. Scheuster a goodbye performance." This was followed by a chorus of nods. "We know you aren't the most musically oriented, and if it were just that fact we would leave you alone. Sadly, Principal Figgins will not let us use the auditorium without the consent of an adviser. We want this to be a surprise, so we need to ask you."

Dawn rested her chin on her hands and looked over the little group. "All you guys want is to give a goodbye performance? You really don't have any other ulterior motives?"

Cue the squirming and shuffling.

"I thought so," she said, nodding to herself. "Look, I understand what you guys are trying to do. Hell, at your age I would try the same thing." She looked them over, trying to be professional. "Even though I get it, guys, I can't approve this. Mr. Scheuster is an adult and can make his own decisions. It isn't right to interfere with his decisions."

"Ms. Summers," Kurt cut in from where he lounged in a desk chair, "can you _honestly_ tell us that you agree with Mr. Schue's decision?"

"Well," she began to hedge, trying to think of some platitude.

The kids didn't give her a chance. Like sharks, they smelled blood in the water and began to talk all at once. They were singers, they had range, pitch, projection and a lot of other terms Dawn had only begun to learn. But all those paled when compared to _**LOUD.**_ Dawn's headache bloomed into a full migraine, and before she had a chance to silence the kids something inside her lurched.

It was kind of like floating inside her own head. She was still sitting at her desk, and—surprise, surprise—everything had that creepy olive tint to it. Her room was coated with a thin glaze of the same gunk she had seen in the auditorium. It moved and skittered over her desk like a thing alive, flowing off her desk. She turned her head to follow its course, which turned out to be toward the center of the room and the kids. Dawn opened her mouth to shout out a warning, when but when she looked at the kids that warning died in her throat.

The students were still sitting, still talking. But what she noticed was the bright light surrounding them—no, _coming_ from them. When the sludge approached the light it shrank back and burned. The kids seemed to be oblivious, and Dawn could make out the faint sounds of the group pleading their case. Amazingly, the more the group tried to persuade her, the brighter the light got; if it didn't look insane, she would have smacked herself upside the head.

_Gather_, _Protect_. Ye gods, could she really have had her head any _more_ up her ass? She was so deep into berating herself she almost missed it when things lurched again. Dawn was still in her classroom, and now the olive tint and the gunk were gone, thankfully. It was a little disturbing that she could still see the afterburn of the light around the kids, like the trace left by flash photography.

"Ms. Summers, are you okay?" asked Artie from right beside her desk. He was looking at her critically and must have rolled over sometime while she was in her vision.

"I'm fine, Artie. Just a little headache. Thanks for asking." She rubbed at her temples to try to reinforce the cover.

Artie gave her a look that clearly said he doubted her, but since she was still conscious _this_ _time,_ he was going to let it slide. Even as he rolled back the noise was still going, except it looked like the group had nominated Rachel as its spokeswoman again. Dawn held up her hand for silence again, and this time she couldn't stop the honest smile on her face.

"Whoa, guys!" She had to shout a little while laughing, which ruined the effect. "I get it, I get it. And if you guys think this will work, I am fully prepared to endorse your good-bye concert for Mr. Scheu. Because that's all this is, right? Just a farewell performance?"

Dawn and Rachel locked eyes, and Dawn shot her a wink.

"You're one hundred percent right, Ms. Summers," Rachel replied too perkily and quickly. "We all understand this is just a farewell performance."

"Wait, what about the other stuff?" Finn began, before five sets of hands smacked him about his arms and shoulders. "Ow! Stop it! Quit pinching me, Mercedes!"

"There is no 'other stuff,' Ms. Summers," Kurt responded smoothly. "Finn is just _confused." _Dawn tried her best not to see the look Kurt was giving Finn.

"All righty," she said, as if nothing had actually happened. "You guys have a plan? Let's hear it."

They told her they'd chosen "Don't Stop Believin'" to showcase their vocal talents and ability to work as a group. Costumes had been decided on, with one minor alteration.

"Red, Mercedes. Call it a hunch, but stay away from green. Red has a stronger stage presence. Plus," Dawn said with an apologetic shrug, "the only gels we have left are purple, and you guys would look like something out of Barney if I let you go out there dressed in green."

That aside, the kids had hooked up with the school jazz band and were working on the choreography. The only thing she technically had to do was sign some forms. This was good, as plans went. It wasn't genius, but then again the kids didn't have access to a rocket launcher.

Dawn could let the kids' plan remain, and aside from signing some paperwork she would have no moral obligation. So of course she picked up her cell and texted Emma, asking if the guidance counselor would meet her after school. Dawn knew she would have to eat at least 10 pounds of crow and like it, but in the end it might just be worth it. _It was weird__,_ she thought as the kids filed out of her room, grinning ear to ear. _Giles never told me__ the biggest risk in using people__—es__peci__ally those who want to be used__—is __how quickly you end up being used __them. _


	11. Chapter 11

Title: Old Stories (11/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee.

A/N: Thanks for all of the reviews and welcome to you new readers. Some dialogue is taken from the episode "Pilot-Director's Cut." These aren't my characters or worlds I am just playing around with them. Thanks as always to my beta DropEdge.

Dawn skidded around the corner, her dress shoes almost slipping on the linoleum. Catching herself on a water fountain, she snarled out.

"Oh no, Ms. S, we couldn't possibly do this on Friday; when you can wear sneakers, it has to be on Tuesday: it's symbolic." Even now she had no damned clue what it was symbolic **of**. She righted herself and resumed her jog toward the auditorium, muttering, "Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday."

At last, despite the demands of stupid dress codes, she made it into the auditorium and approached the stage. School had just let out and it was now 3 p.m., and the Glee kids occupied on stage. Rachel and Kurt were busy showing Tina how to take apart stage lights and fit the purple colored gels. The trio were pushing as hard as they could, but even at their pace she wouldn't bet money on whether or not that would be done on time.

Mercedes was doing her part by riding the poor kid from the A.V. club who was chosen to run the light board—she had to get her name—and the way Mercedes was going on, the kid deserved some extra credit. Dawn vaulted the stage steps and found the last of her charges dealing with the band. Artie was hooking up a guitar to an amp and Finn was talking to one of the kids parked behind a drum set who was nodding eagerly.

"So remember, when we hit the first bridge I'll be jumping on the drums. You sure that you're cool with that, man?"

"Sure, dude," the drummer replied casually, "Sounds like fun. Plus, it's not like you're gonna make a habit of it or something."

"Hey Finn," she said, running up behind the quarterback. "You guys going to be ready on time?"

"We should be, Ms. S," Finn replied with a wide grin. "Artie and I are just running through the last-minute stuff with the band, and then we're going to help Rachel and them put the Jello in the lights."

"'Gels,' Finn," Rachel replied absently from across the stage, where she sat cross legged around a stage light. "Don't worry, Ms. Summers. While _I_ have no doubts about our ability to be finished on time, it _would _be nice if you and Artie came over to help Finn." She made a final twist with a screwdriver and handed the rig to Tina. "There you go. Make sure that frame is on tight enough."

Dawn suddenly realized she was wistful for woodworking tools and pieces of old furniture. Shaking off that thought, she started back toward the steps, "Okay, guys. It looks like you have everything in hand; Rachel, Finn remember to watch for my text. Once I text, you have five minutes."

She jogged out of the auditorium to a chorus of, "Sure thing, Ms. S," and other variants.

Dawn kicked her jog up a notch, ignoring the pain in her ankles as she booked it across the building to Emma's office and the adjoining career center. She peeked through the glass window of Emma's office and stopped outside the Career Center. Emma looked ready: she had her laptop in front of her, which if they were lucky still held the reprint of the tape from the library. Dawn stopped long enough to give her a wave before moving in a circle of the school toward the detention room.

Getting Emma on-board had taken more groveling than even Dawn had initially believed. Emma's initial response to Dawn's text had been a firm but polite "thanks but no thanks." Dawn, of course, had respected this decision by stalking...or rather to say _tracking_ Emma down in the school library on Friday night. Dawn still felt a little guilty about this, but getting Emma on board was essential. The kids could probably get to Will by themselves, but why take that chance when Dawn knew he would crumble after an Emma Pillsbury guilt trip?

Which naturally led to Dawn and Emma scouring the school library's shelves for any sign of the 1993 Nationals tape—which also happened to be the only time the school's Glee club had gone to Nationals. Emma had been just on the edge of grateful enough to accept help, no matter its source. So they searched, and Dawn—through a mix of luck and Dewey-fu—found a reference to all the old tapes being moved to an annex of the storage room.

Two hours later Dawn was caked in a solid layer or dust (Well, she _hoped_ it was dust.) after shifting around pretty much every box in the storage room. Emma, for her part, looked serene from her vantage point on a chair outside the room. Even outside the room she was hermetically sealed with gloves, dusk mask and a cheap plastic poncho.

Dawn had reached the point where boxes were about to go flying when she moved that last box and found an old storage cubby set into the wall. Dawn could just make out the shapes of VHS tapes through the caked on layers of dust; seriously, who did this? Giles would go on a rampage. She had tried reaching into the alcove for the tapes, but the way the dust tigers shifted freaked her out on a primal level.

She was still squatted down in front of the cubby contemplating her next move when she heard the soft hiss right before an explosion of dust blinded her. Coughing, Dawn wiped at her eyes to find the unlikely sight of Emma, going John Wu with two cans of air cleaner.

"Honestly, Dawn, we don't have all night," Emma said as she reached in and grabbed the stack of tapes. Dawn couldn't confirm it, but Emma might have been smirking behind the dust mask.

One shower and a change of clothes later found Dawn and Emma shifting through the stacks of unlabeled tapes. There was A LOT of footage of old Cheerio routines, which in its own way made things easier. The moment they started a tape and heard Sue on the megaphone that tape landed in the discard pile. After all, Sue Sylvester would never deign to waste film space on anything other than Cheerio routines.

Near the bottom of the pile they found it. The tape was abused, and Dawn loaded it into the VCR gingerly. Poor storage or not, though the film was still good, sadly whoever had done the filming had filmed _all_ of Nationals. Because the tape was in such bad shape the duo settled in; with their luck the tape would explode if they got anywhere close to the fast forward button.

Dawn was nodding off through a painful version of "Cell Block Tango" (_What?_ _She had watched the movie.) _when Emma cleared her throat.

"Not that I don't appreciate you helping me out, Dawn," Emma said primly, "because I do. But why _are_ you here?"

No surprise, Dawn was tempted to lie. After all, "I need your help to manipulate Will Scheuster into staying on as choir coach because of a vision" wasn't the right sort of answer. But she couldn't lie to Emma, so censorship was a go.

"Because the kids need him, and I was wrong," Dawn said simply, then sighed when all she got from Emma was a receptive nod; clearly she wanted more.

"Look, Em," Dawn said with a sigh, "about the other day? It was way out of line. I came on way too harsh and I really should have been yelling at myself."

"Will and I had just had the big fight, and I was left to face those disappointed kids, and I had no freaking clue what to do. Sue had cornered me, telling me that Glee was over, and yeah, I just accepted it."

Dawn sighed again and began to tear at a piece of notebook paper. "It was crappy as hell, but when I saw you trying to change Will's mind, I snapped. Hell, I was his partner in this thing, and he didn't even come to me before he made this big decision, And there you were fighting for him."

"I hear what you're saying Dawn, but it's still not making any sense," Emma said quietly,

"I know," Dawn replied, clearly frustrated. "It's those kids. They have, like, a sixth sense. They came to me—_ME_, Emma. Before this all I had ever done for them was tell them we didn't have the money to do something. Will was the inspiration and I was the hardass." She shook her head. "The sad thing is that I was really getting into it. I had pages of notes about Vocal Adrenaline and what we could do before Will dropped the bombshell.

"I was left in charge and I failed them. They knew but they still came to me," Dawn said, her voice full of wonder. "They know somewhere in their hearts that they need Will, and they have a plan to get him back. They want to win him back with a song, and they came to me. I can't tell them no."

Dawn dropped her hands to her lap and began to pick up paper shreds. On screen a bucktoothed boy and his female partner were murdering an Aerosmith song. "So yeah, I want your help to help the kids and to help Will. I'm sorry that I talked to you like that, and you have every right to tell me to go to hell. But if you do I'm still going to try this thing."

Dawn looked pleadingly at Emma. "We're coming at it from different angles, sure, but if we time it right we can knock Will out of his baby panic and get him back where he belongs. Will you help me, Emma?"

Emma looked thoughtful, and Dawn for just an awful second was worried the answer really would be no. So when Emma nodded yes Dawn had to grip the edge of her chair to keep from bowling the petite woman over in a hug.

"You owe me, Dawn," Emma said as she smiled prettily.

"I'll see your owe me one and make it a double," Dawn said with a grin. "In a couple weeks Xander is coming into town for Invitationals, and you're invited to dinner." Awaiting an answer, she hurried on after Emma's hesitant look. "Don't worry. I won't be the one cooking. Xander will and I promise it will knock your socks off."

Before Emma could reply the emcee announced McKinley High School and they both stared at the screen. Dawn barely had time to jot down the numbers on the timer. "_That's the Way (I Like It_)" blared from the little speakers, and Dawn couldn't decide if she wanted to laugh or groan.

Oh, damn. This was so cheesy. She couldn't believe she was fighting for this, but she would do what she had to do. Her mistake was looking at Emma while she was trying to fight back her own giggles, and without warning the almost-empty library flooded with the sound of laughter.

Dawn's phone beeped at 3:55 with a quick text from Rachel letting her know they needed ten more minutes. Well, there went Plan A, the direct route to the auditorium—and time for a Plan B. Dawn currently was parked outside the Career Center and shamelessly eavesdropping on Will and Emma. Sure, it was wrong, but really compared to all of her other little crimes, she could deal.

Four o'clock: showtime. She kept leaning against the door frame as she heard movement inside the room and the scrape of chairs. Will came out of the room and walked by her without a second glance; she let him start down the hallway before unfolding from the wall.

"Hey, Scheuester! " she bellowed down the hall before wincing; maybe she was a little nervous.

Will froze for a second and then turned around, asking tiredly, "What do you want now Dawn?"

"To apologize," she said, walking toward him with her hands near her waist; she needed pockets. "And maybe to talk for a sec."

Will gave her steady look. "Thanks," he murmured before he turned and started walking again.

"Dammit, Will." Dawn rushed forward and grabbed his arm. "Look, I know you don't want to leave things like this; I don't either." She let his arm go when he nodded slightly. "If you want come to my classroom, you can yell and I'll actually listen. Plus," she said, shrugging slightly, "I kind of have a going away present for you."

Okay, yes it was lame offering him a nice shiny present (especially when she didn't even have one) but it was the best she could do on the fly. Crap excuse or not, he followed her. The walk to her room didn't take long, probably because she was pushing the definition of fast-walk to its breaking point. As they walked into her classroom the clock on the wall cheerfully proclaimed it was ten after four.

She reached into her purse, and luckily her cell hadn't fallen in with the rest of the crap she kept inside. No messages. She managed to send a quick "?" and set the phone on vibrate before Will walked into the room.

"This is a little weird for me, Dawn," Will admitted as he cleared the doorway. "I thought that we would be doing this in your office."

"Maybe, if I actually had an office," she shrugged. "For now all I'm doing is squatting in your office."

"Dawn," Will began, trying to sound reasonable.

She held up her hand. "I know, you don't have to say it. Sure, maybe I snuck a few games of Minesweeper in. But let's face it: I would have done that during practice anyway."

"Interesting," Will commented while adjusting his bag on his shoulder. "But it still has nothing to do with what you said last week. What you said— "

"Was wrong," Dawn conceded. "Well, the way I said it was wrong, but I still believe in the core of what I said."

Dawn grabbed at her purse, clutching for the cell phone, and was rewarded with vibration. _About bloody time._

"Right or wrong Dawn, I still have to go." Will started for her door again, and before she could stop him the soft sound of voices filled her classroom.

At first it was all a capella, and then the band began to play accompaniment.

Dawn smiled at Will. "Hmm, that's weird. Want to see what's going on?"

She started walking out of the room, ignoring Will and hoping she had read the man correctly. Up and down the Wind Tunnel the sound of voices continued, and for a moment she was worried her pied piper act was a flop when she heard the sound of shoes behind her. She led her unwilling victim out of the Wind Tunnel and down the last hallway by the auditorium before she noticed the music hadn't changed in volume or quality.

Dawn passed under another loudspeaker before that mystery solved itself. Someone had patched the mic feeds directly into the PA system. She peeked back at Will, who was alternating between scowling at her and getting caught up in the music. Their last turn found the auditorium doors open—and taking center stage, New Directions.

The lights were up and the music was moving forward. Even knowing it was coming, it was kind of awesome. She moved out of the way of the door and watched Will as he watched the Glee club. As he watched Rachel move around the stage, the young girl's voice flowing like honey, Dawn could see Will's anger melt away.

She couldn't stand it anymore. Will was hovering in the doorway but wouldn't take the final step. Dawn walked behind him and shoved him. Will stumbled for a second, and when he turned back to her she just rolled her eyes.

"Go on. You know you want to." Unsurprisingly, he did.

Dawn leaned against the wall and surveyed the room. Everyone on stage was doing pretty much what they were supposed to, and out of the corner of her eye she caught a flash of red polyester. Sue Sylvester lurked in the lighting balcony, two minions flanking her. The coach surveyed the stage, and when she turned to Dawn, Dawn smiled and waved at her._ I guess the deal's off. _

She had all of five seconds to enjoy that thought before she felt the earth move: that's how she would describe it to Giles later. As the kids powerwalked to the front of the stage, something inside her trembled. Dawn felt like she couldn't stand, and leaning against the wall kept her propped up. But it did nothing to steady her.

She glanced around the room and hall, but Will was talking to the kids. And from their reactions Operation Recruit had been a success, but she wasn't feeling it. In the hall she saw Sue and her flunkies striding away, but that didn't explain the deep shift she had felt. It wasn't big, it wasn't strong, but it was there. She stayed propped up against the wall for the rest of the impromptu practice. Things stopped moving when the kids began to file out of the auditorium. She passed someone—Finn, maybe—her keys so the kids could get their bags and stuff out of the choir room.

Dawn started moving when the janitor started giving her and the auditorium dirty looks. The going was slow, but eventually she found her classroom and the set of keys sitting on top of a bundle on her desk. The bundle was a stack of CDs and a note.

_Ms. Summers,_

_In order to thank you and rectify your musical deficiencies, we have all chosen key songs you should become familiar with in order to have the necessary background to lead us successfully._

_Thanks for everything,_

_New Directions _

Beside the sign-off was a gold star.

The thick bundle's titles ranged from musicals she had heard of like _Rent_ to old stuff like _Guys and Dolls_. Who was she to turn down free music? Packing up her new bundle, she shrugged on her bags before passing by Will at his desk in the choir room office and going out to her car. A single piece of white paper was stuck under her windshield wiper.

"**The sleeper is waking**."


	12. Chapter 12

Title: Old Stories (12/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. 

Eddie's Place was everything one could expect from a typical sports bar: big screen TVs blared college football games, the waitresses sidled around the grouped high tables in short shorts or tight jeans (not that this was always a _good_ thing), and everything was slightly sticky with the aftereffects of spilled beer and dipping sauce for buffalo wings.

The jukebox played the best of both musical worlds, the country and the western; and the drink of choice was cheap light beer. _Americana at its best,_ Dawn thought as she edged away from an overenthusiastic fan and his elbow. Getting anything like personal space was a lost cause; times like these when she was crushed in by all these bodies, she missed the comforting and masking effects of cigarette smoke.

BO and beer mines aside, a night cruising another dive bar was probably _technically_ better than another night camped in front of her computer. Yes, this kind of thought was a radical departure. But after a solid two weeks of red eye from reading and cross-referencing the Council's archives and Lima's own sketchy sense of history, the Google Alert had come as a sick sort of relief.

It wasn't much: just a brief article from the _Lima Gazette—_justwhen she had almost given in and canceled her subscription. Two students at the local OSU branch had been found close to campus beaten and with neck wounds. The _Gazette_ had mentioned the attack only as an "assault," but bribes and some good old fashioned breaking and hacking into the hospital records had revealed the neck wounds.

The two girls had, according to police records, left a Thirsty Thursday Party and found some guys to hook up with when they took a shortcut through an alley on their way back to campus. The attack happened, and both the future romeos had run away, leaving the girls to their fates. Dawn didn't think it was a stretch that when this got out those guys would be on permanent cockblock. That thought, as pleasant as it was, didn't do much to make up for the fact she would be doing all the work on this one.

_Oh well, _she thought as she nursed her beer, _no good deed goes unpunished._And then almost as an afterthought she winced; she was actually quoting musicals now. A flicker of movement as one of the big screens went to commercial spared her from going down that road. In the black screen she saw a chair in the back of the room move without anyone sitting on it. Dawn stood up from the bar and stretched casually, fighting the urge to tug her shirt back down over her midriff. Her own "ho" jeans were almost too tight, but it was more than adequate for Eddie's.

Dawn tried to saunter casually toward the bathrooms, but it felt like she was trying not to stumble. Man, she wished she could have a Slayer do this instead; she sucked at seduction. The bathroom was thankfully empty, and she took a moment to reapply the worst of the makeup and check her meager supplies: mace—the liquid kind—and sewn into the lining of her light jacket a stiletto-thin stake. Her duster held a lot more goodies and she wanted it badly, but it wasn't cold enough and she needed to show skin tonight.

She made sure to stumble a little as she left the bathroom and got her first good look at the mystery chair's occupant. Young and good looking, brown hair, medium height. He had probably been her age when he had been turned. The way he had moved the chair meant he was still relatively fresh out of the ground: controlled enough to be out in public, but too young to cover his tracks.

Of course the fact he was in Lima in the first place raised a lot of ugly questions. Her first reaction on reading the story was that the vamp who attacked the girls had been a transient. A copy of the local OSU student paper warning girls about a campus stalker had killed that hope, and Dawn had gone hunting. Her vamp had avoided campus, and another police report—this one reporting a death and another trip to the morgue—confirmed vamp marks. The attack had taken place on this side of town, so lacking any other options Dawn was forced to act as bait.

She stumbled and giggled through settling her tab, turning down an offer for the bartender to call her a cab. "It's too nice out tonight," she slurred, grinning. "I'll jush walk home."

She stumbled through the tables, "accidentally" losing her balance near the vamp's table. She leaned into the table, making sure he got a good whiff of her: young woman, booze and warm. His eyes widened slightly and she knew she had him. She slurred an apology and stumbled away, making sure to brush against him as she went by. As she cleared the door she saw the chair move again in the reflection off the door's glass. This vamp was either young or lulled by the rumors about Lima. Any vamp nowadays who wanted to survive through his first decade knew never to follow a girl out of a bar.

Dawn examined her options as she moved down the street in a controlled stumble. The best and most logical option would be to stake him and let that be the end of the night. Unfortunately, she needed information, so she would have to lure him in and interrogate him. Damn, she really _really_ missed magic. Dawn pulled out her cell and pretended to have a loud conversation, often holding the phone away from her to yell at it, which let her watch her vamp through the cellphone camera. Two blocks from Eddie's she faked a stumbling turn into an alley, and crouched behind a stack of trash bags and crates.

The vamp sniffed his way into the alley, and as Dawn crouched she worked her mace into one hand and her stake into another; too bad she didn't have one for her phone. Her cell started to ring and the vamp turned, snarling in game face—all sharp bony ridges, yellow eyes and fangs—toward her hiding place. Dawn opened up with the mace, a mix of pepper spray and holy water, and tried to knock the vamp on his back.

Instead the vamp, despite being blinded by her blast, swung his arm out and slammed her into the wall. As her head and back collided with the brick of the alley wall she felt her little stealth stake snap into splinters. Dawn was dazed, but even though her arm felt like lead she was able to give the vamp a face full of the mace as he lunged for her neck. The vamp jumped back snarling, and Dawn didn't realize she was still spraying until she heard the hiss of compressed air and smelt the traces of cayenne in the mist in front of her.

The cloud bought her a few precious eye-watering seconds to clear her head before she dropped to the ground, a trash can smacking into the wall where her head had been a split-second before; at that speed it would have caved in her head. No weapons, no cross and no back up; fucking _brilliant _plan, Summers. Dawn tried her best to assume a defensive stance, and only the fact the vamp was so pissed saved her as he fell right into her throw.

Dawn could smell the burnt flesh as she introduced the vamp into his very own alley wall; too bad he liked her better and came at her again. Dawn traded frantic blows with the vamp, trying to redirect the hits away from her face and stomach. An arm-breaking punch she managed to redirect to merely badly bruising reinforced the fact she was losing ground and fast. She had trained with Slayers and fought vamps before, but she was always better armed. If this fight stayed hand-to-hand, she was going to go down hard. A hard kick knocked her flying into a pile of crates and she felt the burn of broken wood slicing at her stomach. And she could _still_ hear her damn phone ringing.

Dawn groped her hand out, trying to push up when it closed around something cold and solid: a three-foot length of pipe. It wasn't a sword, but it would do nicely. Bracing on the pipe, she got to her feet as fast as she could as the vamp stalked across the alley, taking his sweet time. Dawn held the pipe low in front of her with both hands like a broadsword. The vamp was laughing now, and as he got closer Dawn held her pose until the little shit, arrogant as hell, lunged for her again.

Dawn swung out of reflex borne of long practices, swinging low for the vamp's knees. When she connected she felt rather than heard both kneecaps snap. Dawn tried for a sidestep, but it was more of a side shuffle as she shifted around to the vamp's side where two more quick blows rained down on its back. Her hands were sweating badly and it was hard to keep a grip on the pipe as the vamp tried lunging at her legs. A quick upslice to the chin knocked the vamp back but not out.

Dawn kept one eye on the vamp as she darted a glance around the alley until she found what she needed. _Screw interrogations, _she thought as she edged toward the snapped piece of wood. The vamp kept trying to stand and Dawn almost lost the pipe when she plunged it in a stab at the monster's chest. Luckily momentum was on her side and the vamp's weight forced him back screaming onto his knees. Dawn bent quickly, grabbed the wood, and with a motion born of long practice smoothly sank the shard of wood into the vamp's heart until she was kneeling in a pile of dust.

Dawn let both the wood and the pipe go and crawled on hands and knees to her cell. It was easy to find in the post-fight chaos since it was _still_ ringing. She reached the phone, and when she saw who was calling it took most of her self-control not to throw the damned thing against the wall.

"Rachel," she said in a pained groan, leaning against the alley wall and checking her stomach. "It's 11 o'clock on Saturday night. Why are you calling me _now_?"

Rachel shifted her cell to the crook between her shoulder and neck now that Ms. Summers had _finally _answered her phone. Honestly, it didn't seem as though Ms. Summers had much of a social life. Tina had heard her talking to Ms. Pillsbury about an out-of-town boyfriend, but that was like saying you had a boyfriend in Cleveland—not that Rachel personally knew anything about that.

So it was Saturday night and Rachel should be commended that instead of going out and wasting her time and brain cells getting drunk she was putting herself on the fast track to stardom. Namely, she was taking the time to meticulously tag and label all her MySpace videos by musical or at the least by artist. One never knew when a careful search might get you noticed; and if a few..._indelicate_ reviews got deleted along the way, well that was just good PR. Philistines.

"Good evening, Ms. Summers," Rachel replied; she was warmly confident, just like all the articles said to be.

"I apologize for calling this late, but I have been looking some information up on the Internet, and I know how we can take things to the next level."

"The next level, Rachel?" Ms. Summers asked blearily over the phone. "Mind if I ask you a few questions?"

"Certainly, Ms. Summers," Rachel said cheerily. Maybe this time it would be different.

"One: does this idea of yours have anything to do with featuring you in more vocal arrangements?"

"Not necessarily," Rachel hedged. "Some of the arrangements have very suitable parts for the others." Mostly as back up, true. But she _was_ the talent, after all.

"Two," Ms. Summers continued relentlessly. "Is this going to make an even bigger dent in my non-existent costume budget?"

"Of course not," Rachel said, glancing at the bagged dance dress in her closet. "I believe that myself and the other Glee club members will have the required wardrobe."

The others were sure to have black clothes, or least Tina and Kurt would. Finn just needed the right shirt and they could pop in the center of the spotlight. They were the leads, and as such deserved all of the attention while the others faded into the background.

"Fine, Rachel," Ms. Summers said. "Last question: this wouldn't be another attempt to change up the song Mr. Scheuster wants you guys to sing at the pep rally?"

_Busted!_ Rachel winced. "Ms. Summers, you have to understand," Rachel said, walking the razor-thin line between pleading and whining. (Prior experience had proven that whining equaled an instant hang up.) "We've tried to talk to Mr. Schue about this and he keeps insisting that we have to sing _that_ song."

This was good and fairly reasonable; plus Ms. Summers was still on the line.

"Rachel," Ms Summers sighed, "you know I don't have any creative control. The only thing I can recommend is that on _Monday_ you talk to Mr. Scheuster and try to resolve this civilly." Rachel heard movement over the line. "I will see you in school. Good night, Rachel." The line was unmistakably dead.

She tried to call Ms. Summers back but her call went directly to voice mail. This was _so_ unfair. Why was Ms. Summers so hard to talk to? She had given Rachel her cell number in case Rachel needed her for anything while they tried to get Mr. Schue back. Ms. Summers had said to call if Rachel needed anything. Since Ms. Summers didn't have Facebook, MySpace, or even Twitter, calling her was really the only way to contact her.

It was like Ms. Summers went out of her way not to be noticed.

Honestly, it was like earlier this week when she had persuaded the others to help her talk to Ms. Summers.

All Ms. Summers had been doing in the library was reading some books on Lima town history. The way she had glared at them, one would think they had interrupted something important. Granted, Ms. Summers was in the middle of some big research grant or something, but wasn't that grant _about_ Glee club? Logically that meant Glee and any suggestions Rachel made about it should be her highest priority.

Rachel closed out her MySpace account and after updating her Google Alerts for her own name she began to do her nightly stretching. The others had backed down so quickly around Ms. Summers (and she wasn't even Coach Sylvester scary), Rachel herself had lasted an entire _minute._ They had to keep trying; disco was so dead, but Mr. Schue kept insisting the song was the only option. Even _Kurt_ thought it was gay; Rachel knew that sounded mean, but she was raised by two dads. Thoughts like that weren't cruel if you had the right background, and she wasn't going to out him or anything.

Stretching completed, Rachel felt relaxed enough for restful night of sleep. She only had vocal training in the afternoon and some homework to do, so she could always call Ms. Summers in the afternoon.


	13. Chapter 13

Title: Old Stories (13/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?

Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. I own nothing. Sorry about the delay on getting this chapter out. Real life has a way of doing what it does. Thanks once again for all of the wonderful reviews, I hope that if you are reading this story you will tell me what you think of it.

"I'm telling you, she wants the Puck."

Finn rolled his eyes. He and Puck had been best friends for, like, eight years; he was pretty much used to ignoring the crap that came flying out of his mouth. Instead he focused on firing a rocket into the middle of the alien swarm.

"What are you talking about, dude? You've scored with half the girls in school. Now get your ass in gear and take out that sniper."

The mohawked teen on the bed shifted, "All right, all right. I'm on it. Don't be such a little bitch."

For the next few minutes the room was quiet except for the screams of dying aliens on the TV and the clicking of controller buttons. The silence was too good to last.

"What are you worried about anyway, Hudson?" Puck muttered as he leaned back again, "You and Quinn have sealed the deal by now, right?"

Finn was trying his best not to blush. "We've done some stuff," he allowed, hoping it would get Puck off his case.

"'Stuff'?" Puck smirked at him. "That's fucking pathetic. Eighth graders do 'stuff.' You're the quarterback, dude. You should be drowning in pussy. Instead you're getting blue balls from the queen of the Chastity Club. You really must love your hand, bro."

_You know people expect us__ to get together don't you?_ Finn shook his head to banish that phantom voice.

"Fuck you, asshole. I'm dating Quinn and I love Quinn. I don't cheat on her and she doesn't cheat on me. We have a good thing."

"Okay, fine," Puck said slowly. "If you're happy with the Ice Queen, that's all you bro. I still say you should have come to work with me this summer. What you need is your very own Mrs. Robinson."

"Mrs. Robinson? Dude, she was my babysitter. She's like a hundred years old!"

Finn tried his best to clear out the mental image of all those wrinkles. Uggh.

"Not that Mrs. Robinson, you dumbass!" Puck said, slapping him on the back of the head. "The movie dude, where the college kid hooks up with hot older chicks. I'm living the dream. Dustin Hoffman was a bad-ass Jew for the day, but I make him look like a pansy."

"Really?" Finn had to ask. The movie sounded pretty cool.

"More than that, man," Puck agrees while steering PuCkASaurUS69 into a turret. "He also ends up fucking her daughter. He almost gets the Holy Grail of Corruption, hooking up with a MILF and her Daughter at the same time."

Quinn's mom is kind of hot, and he thinks about that for about five seconds before he remembers that Quinn's dad has a crazy amount of guns that he shows to Finn every time he comes over. That kind of kills the fun in that plan.

"Anyway man, what makes you think Ms. Summers wants anything to do with your sorry ass?"

"You just have to pay attention, bro," Puck says confidently. "You saw the way she was looking at me in class today."

Finn snorted. "She was staring at you because you fell asleep. She kept trying to wake you up. It was weird that you even came to class. You know she's got a boyfriend, right?"

"Bullshit. Chicks that hot don't have out-of-town boyfriends. Or if they do they don't have them for long." Puck leaned back and closed his eyes a little. "Think about it. Man. Hot young teachers are hooking up with students all the time now. She's been in Lima for like two months by this point. She's all about the cock." This was accompanied by thrusting his hips and pointing at his junk.

Finn couldn't make the idea of Ms. Summers and _anybody's_ junk work together. When he tried he kept thinking back to the library and the look she gave them when they interrupted her. It was like she was going to eat them just with her eyes. _ No mailman needed to control tha__t boner__,_ He thought with a shudder.

"Don't try it, man." Finn had to try to warn Puck. "If you let her get anywhere near your dick, she'll probably rip it off."

"Kinky," Puck said leering. "She likes it rough. As long as she doesn't go in for chains and whips I'm all good. I am nobody's gimp."

Puck turned to look at Finn, his face suddenly serious. "Honestly, I'm more worried about you. This Homo Explosion shit is catching, man. Someone almost had you on the slushie list. But I got your back, man. You're lucky I'm such a badass. Bros before hos, right?"

"Totally," Finn said, grinning and raising his fist for a dap. Puck returned the dap and started grabbing his crap.

"Anyway, I gotta go. The munchkin has Brownies or some crap, and I have to pick her up. Ma's working the late shift tonight."

Finn watched as Puck left his room and barely heard the door squeak shut before he stretched out on his bed. Someone was slapping him on the slushie list. Man, that sucked. He closed his eyes and tried to think of some way out of this. But he didn't get to think too much about it before he heard his Mom was knocking on his door.

"Hey, sweetie," she said tiredly. She was still wearing her scrubs from the hospital. "I see Puck came over today."

"Yeah, he came over and we did some homework and stuff. No big deal."

"Stuff, huh? " Mom asked, grinning. That grin was not good. "How many zombies is an 'A' worth?" she asked, nodding her head toward the controllers and the TV screen.

"Aliens," he corrected, blushing. "We got _some_ homework done."

"Right," Mom agreed. "Because no son of mine would _ever _play games until all of his homework was done." She started to yawn and tried to cover it with a hand.

"Anyway, I'm going to go jump in the shower. You got a message from some girl in Glee club on the machine. If you're going out, do you mind if we do 'fend for yourself' tonight?"

"Sure, Mom. No problem," Finn said quickly, the answer pretty much on reflex. "I can grab something when I go out."

"Thanks, sweetie." She leaned down to kiss him on his cheek. "I'll make a meatloaf this weekend to make it up to you. Since you're going out tonight, go ahead and take the car."

"Thanks, Mom." He got to drive tonight. _A__wesome._

"Thank me later," she said, her smile just tired now. "I left twenty on the counter. Leave me some gas for in the morning, 'kay?"

"Sure thing, mom." He could do gas, no problem.

"Home by eleven," she called as she headed down the hall to her room. "Drive safe."

"D-d-oes anyone else thinks it's kind of creepy how Ms. Summers and Mr. Schue don't talk to each other?" Tina mused while doodling on a napkin. "T-they talk during practice and stuff, but only when they have to."

Kurt, Mercedes and Artie all nodded in agreement. Firmly on all their minds was the argument they _hadn't_ been eavesdropping on between Mr. Scheuster and Ms. Summers.

Kurt spoke up from where he had been filing his nails. "Honestly, it's getting kind of annoying. Granted, Ms. Summers helped us out a few weeks back. But now she spends most of her time during practice in the office. I keep trying to get a look at that delicious duster she wore to school this week, but she keeps it locked up. It's a waste, really. The only person in Lima who we know has been to Europe lately and she has no sense of fashion."

A hollow slurping sound came from Artie's direction and he put down his Frappuchino cup when they all turned to stare at him.

"Sorry," he said, shrugging. "I wonder what's up with her arm? All this week she's been trying not to use her right arm." Artie's face flamed up as they kept staring at him. "What? I notice these kind of things," he said with a gesture toward his chair. It was time for everyone else to look embarrassed.

"Anyway," Mercedes cut in before things got more awkward, "have y'all heard what the cheerleaders are doing now? They are leaving boxes of Summer's Eve in her classroom after every class."

"Well, that answers the question of whether Coach Sylvester is still mad," Kurt responded dryly. He pulled out his iPhone and rolled his eyes when he saw the time. "Great. It's almost time to go to Rachel's."

"Remind me again why we're going along with Little Miss Priss's plan," Mercedes complained as they all started getting their trash together.

"It's either that or disco," Artie said, stacking trays on his lap. "Plus she said she'd take all the blame if things went wrong."

"M-m-maybe we should have asked her to come with us," Tina said, stuffing pens into her purse, "W-w-we didn't get any costumes anyway."

"Oh, we found costumes," Kurt corrected her. "Just nothing we want to pay for. The stuff in the costume room will work, and Ms. Summer's won't care that much." He hoped, anyway.

"Plus if we had told her we didn't find anything, we'd be doing routines right now instead of relaxing. I don't mind working hard to get this done, but there are limits," he replied, casually flipping his hair and then stopping to check it in the reflection offered by a nearby store window.

Tina's phone beeped and she pulled it out and quickly typed something back. "That was Finn," she said by way of explanation. "He said he would pick us up since he has his mom's car."

"It beats walking," Mercedes, said holding out her arm for Kurt to take. The quartet made its way to the mall entrance,their chariot, and an evening at Rachel's.


	14. Chapter 14

Title: Old Stories (14/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?

Dawn leaned her head against the cool metal of the filing cabinet, just taking the moment to absorb the merciful quiet in the choir room office. Such a blessed quiet after the last hour. Only one hour and so many mental scars. The look of shock on Finn's face after Kurt smacked his ass. How do you even _begin_ forgetting the sight of one hand slapping?

The hallway door opening forced her to shift a little to the left, snapping her out of her reverie. Will slouched into the office, two cups of coffee in hand. He passed one to her, and today she was thankful it was black; keeping anything else down would be unnecessarily complicated.

"So," she asked while quietly blowing on her coffee to cool it, "How fired are we?"

"Don't ask me how, but as of right now you and I still have jobs," Will said, reaching into his desk and pulling out a small bottle. He made his coffee an Irish. "I borrowed it from Ken," he said by way of explanation.

Dawn held out her cup and Will obliged her silently; industrial coffee and cheap whiskey: drink of choice for the reprieved. They sat in silence for a moment, sipping at their drinks and gathering the necessary courage—liquid and otherwise. Will set his cup down and started absently tapping his fingers on the desk. Dawn couldn't help noticing he was tapping to the tune of "Push It."

"If it helps, talking to the kids took all of five seconds," she remarked with a bitter laugh. "As soon as I had them all sitting down, I didn't even have a chance to ask them who was responsible. Not that we needed to guess, but Rachel stood up and took all the blame. I have to give her credit. So I sent her to meet you outside the office and laid into the rest of the kids for a little bit." She shrugged. "The usual themes, of course: responsibility, betrayal, and—"Oh, by the way, you might have killed Glee Club." It didn't last too long. Mostly I just gave them detentions and sent them home."

Dawn took another sip, bracing at the smell, "How'd it go with Sue and Figgins?"

Will smiled awkwardly, "About as well as you think it did; some good news some bad news. Remind me again me why _I_ had to talk to them?"

"Sue hates my guts, even more than she hates yours," Dawn ventured with a small smile of her own. "And to be completely honest, I probably would have said something to make things worse." She shrugged. "I'm sure you happened to notice that I suck at apologies."

"Really?" Will said, his eyes almost as wide as Emma's. "I never noticed that!"

Dawn rolled her eyes, but before she could respond Will slid an American flag-festooned list at her. She took a moment to glance at the list: Jesus, clowns and luftballons. One of these things was seriously not like the others.

"Our new song list," Will said before she could comment, "According to Figgins, we can use any of the songs on this list. His pastor helped him pick them out." Will said the last with a wry smile.

"This is ridiculous. I know I've been in Europe for a while, but we still have the First Amendment, right? I mean, I can't think of any song on this list that would get us taken seriously."

"Maybe not," Will conceded, "but for now let's play ball. This is Figgins, after all. In a week or two he'll forget about this and worry about something else. Oh," Will said casually, "there is one more thing. You need to make an adjustment to the budget."

"Will, what adjustments? We don't have any money to spend."

Like a showman, he passed another slip of paper across the desk. She rolled her eyes again and flipped it over, and then her eyes focused on the account balance and she slowly looked up at Will.

"Whose piggybank did you rob?" she said in amazement, double checking the figures on the sheet. "This is kind of insane. I haven't had a chance to talk to any parents about being boosters yet."

"We just inherited the Cheerio's dry cleaning fund," Will shrugged. "Apparently they charge more to do it in Europe. It must be an exchange rate thing."

"Okay," Dawn said, purposefully folding the sheet to avoid the temptation of all that shiny money, "Enough of this piecemeal crap. What exactly happened?"

So he finally told her, foster care threats and all. Even hearing about it, Dawn couldn't help being grateful that she had opted for dealing with the kids. After the recital Will leaned back in his seat and sagged. "That's about it, really."

"Maybe we need to let the kids manipulate us more often," Dawn mused, still playing with the account form. "I mean, are there even words for how thoroughly they played us?"

"I don't think so," Will said, laughing a little. "I could think of a couple words in Spanish that described us instead. I mean, they kept me so mad complaining about the song and bothering you that we never even touched base."

"Yep," Dawn shrugged. "We got our asses handed to us by six teenagers. Man, we are so screwed when we get the 12 we need for sectionals."

She strutted down the hall, the freshman cheerio who had been sent to get her scrambling in her wake. She didn't have to pretend who had asked for her. Ms. Hendriks could stutter and pretend, but she knew it as soon as she saw the uniform; they all did. Sue Sylvester wanted something, and she would get whatever she wanted. That was exactly the kind of attitude Santana was working on inspiring in all those around her.

She and Quinn might be working together for now, but that was only until the dust cleared. After that stunt Q had talked them into with that stupid glee club, a tornado was coming and there might not be any survivors. Quinn was risking all their social standings just so she could chase after her stupid boyfriend. Boys were disposable; you used them until you didn't need them or until you found a new kid who wanted to buy better dinners. Then you used them both: lather rinse repeat.

If Q was that worried and Rachel "Manhands" Berry really could steal her boyfriend away, then the big doofus wasn't worth having around. It's really what she got for playing Ms. Pure and Christian. Santana knew how to keep Puck in line; sure, he was a jackass sometimes, but he was a football player and he was hot. So what if he screwed around with other girls? He knew Brittany and Quinn were off limits. So long as he didn't touch them, he got to keep his balls attached.

He had been a little cocky lately, even for Puck; it was probably time to flash Jewfro some more boob to keep him focused. Santana smirked to herself. She could take care of these things just fine without dragging everyone else down with her. It was all about attitude.

She felt rather than heard the mini-Cheerio scamper off as they arrived outside coach's office. Interesting; this conversation was eyes and ears only. It didn't feel right walking down the hall by herself. Maybe it was a sign of weakness, but she had gotten used to having her ladies flanking her. Screw it. Coach Sylvester wanted to talk to her alone, and crazy or not, it paid to jump whenever she blew her whistle.

"Lopez, get your keister in here!" Sue bellowed from the other side of the door. Santana didn't hesitate.

Coach Sylvester was climbing her Stairmaster like she was going to beat the machine to the top. Coach had her weights in both arms, and one swung way close to Santana's face as she scrambled inside the door.

"Sit!" Coach snarled. Santana sat. Coach continued her climb. "You took your sweet-ass time getting here. I thought for a second that you might be getting soft on me." Coach shook her head and gritted her teeth; it might have been a smile.

The machine whirled into a new cycle and Sue pounded her feet harder into the pedals. Santana wasn't totally sure, but she thought the machine was groaning.

"That was a moment of weakness," Sue said candidly, not even pausing for breath, "and I thought to myself, 'Sue, you're being awfully unfair to Santana.'" The machine ground to a halt and she stepped off and began to (_Yuck!_) towel herself down.

"So Lopez, I'm going to give you a chance to prove me wrong." Coach took a seat and started spooning protein shake mix into her little blender. "I have a job that I need done, and you are exactly the person for that job."

"What's the job? You already have us spying on that stupid Glee club," Santana groused.

"Spying is such an ugly word, Santana," Coach said, snapping shut the lid on the blender. "What I need is information." The blender started whirring.

Seriously, why the hell wasn't she asking Quinn? _B__londie pretty much lives up Coach's ass__,_ Santana thought. She kept quiet, though, and tried to keep her face neutral. Coach was dissecting her the same way she did when someone fucked up an NC State. Before she could say anything else, Coach tossed a black and red (naturally) flash drive into Santana's lap.

"That flash drive I didn't give you just now has all the information that I and the school files have on our subject." Coach was sipping her shake now. "It's all pretty basic, and because it's interview season and I don't want to bother with finding out more, it's your job. You still take orders from Quinn, but if you need to break off to get this done, do it."

Santana wanted to ask what was in it for her, but maybe it would be enough to get on Coach's good side. The Cheerio rose and walked out of the office, heading straight for the nurse's office. It was time for math so Puck should be in there—and she needed some serious release.

Later that evening Santana sat in front of her laptop and popped in the flash drive. It was loaded. It looked like Coach had pulled every school file on whoever it was. Santana shrugged a little and started to sort the files. It really wasn't any of her business why Coach Sylvester had such a bone on for Ms. Summers.


	15. Chapter 15

Title: Old Stories (15/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee.

Things were, for once, fairly quiet in the choir room. All the kids had gone home after a normal practice, and Will and Dawn kept staring at a whiteboard scattered with magnets. The magnets were supposed to represent the kids, and Will kept shoving them around as he tried to work out a new routine for "Don't Stop Believin." Dawn was supposed to be learning the fine art of choreography, since Will had so recently been re-inspired after his little boy band stint.

"Will, I don't want to say anything…but isn't it just a little weird how Quinn, Santana and Brittany decided to join up at the same time?" she pondered as she looked at the trio of magnets.

"I don't think so," Will replied absently, chewing on a pen before sliding around the Tina and Mercedes pieces. "Quinn is Finn's girlfriend, after all, and she recruited a few friends. Nothing bad about that."

"Except for the fact that the three girls in question also happened to be Sue's top three Cheerios," Dawn pointed out, hopping off the piano bench and sliding a magnet meant to represent Rachel between the rows representing the other glee kids.

Will sighed. "We talked about this, Dawn. Everyone who tries out gets a part; just because they're Cheerios doesn't make them the enemy," he said, sliding the Rachel piece back and putting a Quinn piece in its place. "Let's try that next practice. Quinn and Finn have good chemistry, for obvious reasons."

Dawn marked that down absently but couldn't think of another way to press the point without getting Will upset. She wasn't trying to coddle him, but after that little stint with the choreographer she was laying off his buttons until his pride healed. Dawn couldn't prove it, but the little asshat who came in might have been a demon.

"Do we want Artie in the center after the group huddle?" Dawn asked, playing with the Artie token. "I don't want to hide him in the group, and his voice complements the others pretty well." Dawn put the token down when Will didn't say anything. He just stared at her. "What? Okay, fine. Never mind, then" She reached out to move the token back into the chorus.

"No," Will said quickly, putting his hand on hers before she could move the piece. "It's a good idea, just..." he trailed off and took his hand off hers. "I didn't think of it. I didn't realize you were catching on so quickly."

"Thanks." Dawn couldn't help the quiet snort and the way her eyebrows went up. "It's almost like I've been paying attention."

He had the good grace to blush about that, so she rolled her eyes.

"So despite the fact I have gained **vast** amounts of experience, what the heck do I do when Rachel comes by to complain about her solo?" Dawn held up her phone and took a snapshot of the board. "I mean, I could do it in my normal diplomatic fashion, but it might be nice to still have Rachel on the team."

"I don't know. I want to spread the songs around, and Tina would be great for 'Tonight, Tonight .'" Will shrugged and glanced at the clock on the wall. "Crap. It's later than I thought. Do you mind if we wrap up a little early? Terri's doing inventory tonight at the store, and I want to have dinner ready when she gets home."

"Sounds good. It's always smart not to piss off your baby mama," Dawn said, setting some of the chairs back on the risers. "I won't even call you whipped."

"Awesome," Will said dryly. "Speaking of whipped, has the pre-Xander visit panicking started yet?"

"Touche," she said with a slight bow. "Yeah, as far as I know he should be here during Invitationals. Emma wants to meet him, so we're going to do a meet-and-eat at my place." Off Will's concerned look, she held up her hands. "Don't panic. He's cooking and I'm staying as far away from the kitchen as I can."

"Well, you're handling it better than I would," Will admitted as he stepped into the office to turn out the lights. "The first time Terri met my co-workers, I was a total wreck."

_Well she is Terri, _Dawn thought before she could stop herself. Hell, she had spoken to Terri only once on the phone; it was probably all due to a bad connection.

"If we have time I might—and I stress _might_—be able to find time for us all to grab dinner before Invitationals," Dawn said as she shouldered her bag and held open the choir room door for Will.

"Dammit, that reminds me," Will said almost smacking himself in the head, "I forgot to ask Brad if he would coordinate the jazz band kids."

"Don't worry about it," Dawn said as they rounded a corner. "I can ask him tomorrow. Take your time tomorrow and be a future Daddy. I can hold everything together for a few hours."

Tina approached the classroom door the way some people approached going to the doctor: she took a deep breath and steeled herself. She had to talk to _someone_ about this. She knocked slightly on the door and heard a muffled "Come in."

Tina turned the knob and opened the door slowly. She wasn't really scared of Ms. Summers, but it was kind of a smart move not to get on her bad side. The soprano looked around the door frame and peered into the room. Ms. Summers was sitting at her desk and looked up when Tina finally got up the nerve to walk in.

"Oh, hey Tina," Ms. Summers said, sounding kind of distracted. "Sorry; I thought you were Brad. He was supposed to meet with me…" she glanced at the classroom clock," 20 minutes ago." Dawn sighed and looked at Tina again. "Oh well, what's up?"

Tina took a deep breath. "I-i-it's n-need some advice," she stammered out quickly, but her words were drowned out by the sound of a piano. She could tell it was an older song, but that was about it. When Ms. Summers heard the song she perked up at her desk, her eyes getting all intense.

Ms. Summers pretty much jumped out of her chair, and Tina stepped out of the way the teacher walked quickly toward the class door. Before she turned the knob she turned back to look at Tina.

"Damn, Tina. I'm sorry. I need to take care of something real quick. Do you mind hanging out in here for a sec?"

Of course she minded, but instead of saying anything about it she just shrugged. Ms. Summers took that as a yes and walked out of the classroom. If she had to say she felt, pissed would be a pretty good summary. First Rachel had talked about her like she wasn't there, and now Ms. Summers had run out, almost forgetting about her. Then again, taking a look around the room she could see why Ms. Summers might forget stuff. The place made her hands itch for a big broad paintbrush and solid black paint.

Sure, it was stereotypical as hell: ha ha, the goth girl wanted black paint. But all the "inspirational" posters kind of contradicted each other. Really, it's a weird-ass message when the poster for self-reliance with a big eagle on it is slapped next to one about team work and some guys in a rowboat. Tina shuddered a little and headed toward Ms. Summers's desk. Unlike the rest of the room, it had only a few pictures on it.

One picture she picked up had Ms. Summers standing next to an older-looking blond woman who probably wasn't her mom, but she remembered something about Ms. Summers mentioning she had a sister. It made more sense when the two stood next to each other in a big group shot. She picked up another, and in it Ms. Summers had her arm around the blond and another around an older guy with an eye patch. Huh. Maybe this was the boyfriend she overheard Ms. S. talking about with Ms. Pillsbury. At least he was cute—well, _older_ cute, but the eye patch made him look kind of like a pirate.

She was about to put the picture down until she checked out the front row of the picture in which a lot of people were kneeling down. But front in that center of the group was a familiar woman with long red hair. That's crazy. Why would she be in a picture with _Ms. Summers_? It didn't seem like her kind of thing. Tina had to find out. Before she had time to process that, Tina heard the door open. She hadn't had time to put the picture down, and Ms. Summers looked pissed. Tina backed up without meaning to and bumped the desk, making everything on it rattle. When Ms. Summers saw her, she stopped, closed her eyes and started rubbing at the bridge of her nose.

"Sorry, Tina," she said, probably trying to smile—not that the result resembled a real smile. "Why don't you put the picture down and tell me what you wanted to."

"I-I" was all she got out before shutting her mouth with a snap. She was _actually_ stuttering. Tina took a deep breath and tried to calm down. In the back of her mind she heard footsteps, and when she opened her eyes Ms. Summers was leaning against the cabinet near her desk. Tina put the picture down. She couldn't stop herself; she had to know.

"Ms. Summers, who is that?" she said quickly, pointing at the red headed woman.

"Who?" Mss Summers asked, leaning over to look more closely. "Oh, that's Willow," Ms. S. said, shrugging offhandedly. "She's a family friend. Why?"

"N-no reason," Tina said, trying her best not to give anything away. "She looks kind of familiar. I think I've read some of her books? The ones on feminism."

Which was totally the truth; all of her books were on feminism. It would probably be a lie though to say that the way Ms. Summers shrugged that off didn't hurt at all.

"That's cool. Next time I get to talk to her, I'll let her know someone is still buying her books." Ms. Summers said the last with a grin Tina really didn't understand. "Actually, Tina, I'm glad you stopped by. You want to talk about the solo, right?" Tina didn't nod, but it really wasn't a question. "Just so you know, the last thing I'm going to do is let you give up the solo. Mr. Scheuster and I decided that you would be great for the role, and despite what happened yesterday I won't let you drop it."

Tina felt like she had been hit in the stomach. Ms. Summers actually thought she wanted to give the solo up. This wasn't about the stupid solo. She didn't know anything at all. Coming to her had been a waste of time. Ms. Summers was still talking about finding her inner strength and a bunch of other crap that sounded ripped from the posters all around them. The word "meditation" had even come up; she wasn't even _trying_.

Tina settled back and tried to look interested. It was just like being in class, except Ms. Summers wasn't even letting her raise her hand. Instead she kept glancing back to the picture frame on the desk. .Ms Summers was in a picture with Magistra Rosenburg!

***

Ms. Summers's lecture lasted about 10 minutes, and after calling her dad for a ride Tina barely made it home in time for dinner. At least Mom and Dad were home tonight. It figured, really. Whenever she needed to poke around they would decide to stay home. So she told her mom she was going to paint for a while and that she would be turning her music up. Her parents were watching a movie and would probably fall asleep in front of the TV. If she kept quiet, she could get up to the attic, find the book box and take out everything she needed.

Opting for jeans and a smock she used while painting, Tina pulled the string that dropped the ladder to the attic. Climbing it was always a pain in the butt: too many tight spaces. Coffin and crypt jokes aside, this really sucked. As she scrambled up the ladder the last step creaked a little, but it probably wouldn't be noticed over the sound of the explosions from the movie playing down below.

For once her mom's obsessive need to label and save everything would come in handy. Finding the box took about 10 minutes as she dug through the stacks. She had to shift a bunch of boxes off the book box. They would come in handy as flat surfaces, since there was absolutely no way she was lugging the whole box downstairs.

She found them near the bottom of the box: a set of four books Tina had been lucky to score at a garage sale since her mom wouldn't buy them for her. They all dealt with feminism in various places such as the workplace or school, but the one she was most interested in had a simple dark blue and silver cover. _Feminism and the Mythic_

Tina smiled a little fondly as she knocked dust off the cover. This book had gotten her through some lonely lunches in middle school. Now she was old enough to look at the part of the book she had always been afraid to look at—well, more than once, anyway. Magistra Rosenburg, as she was known on some Internet boards her mom didn't know about, had included a small section of what she called "useful meditations." People on the boards had told each other the section was really a section on how to work magic.

Magic, without the K, was all about taking control of yourself and doing what needed to be done. She scurried downstairs and slipped the trapdoor back into place. In the relative safety of her room, Tina cracked the book and fired up her laptop. She had always felt kind of stupid for hanging onto that bookmark. Which was stupid: it wasn't even porn. _Not_ that she knew anything about that; that one website had been an accident. _Focus,_ _Tina. You won't be helping Kurt if you keep slacking off like this,_ she berated herself. Rachel could have the song if she wanted it; Tina knew how to help Kurt out of the mess she and Brittany had helped him get into.


	16. Chapter 16

Title: Old Stories (16/?)

Author: Rokwynd

Rating: M for language

Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.

Fandoms: Glee/Buffy

Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?

Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. Thanks as always to my Beta Dropedge.

Artie Abrams had a brief moment of terror when he cleared the classroom doors and started wheeling down the hall, only to find his forward momentum suddenly halted. _Not__the__port__-__a__-__potties__again__. __Please__God__, __not__the__port__-__a__-__potties__again__. _He was scrambling for his hand brake when his new co-pilot spoke up.

"Chill Artie, it's me," Mercedes's sassy voice cut through his fear. "I just want to talk to you about Kurt." Something in her tone opened him up to a whole new level of fear.

She pushed him through the rapidly emptying halls, and Artie had a good idea why she still hadn't managed to pass her driving test; the freshman with whom they almost collided had dented a locker trying to get away. After that Artie closed his eyes and just hoped he would survive the trip.

He opened his eyes only after he heard a door close behind him and he came to a stop. He really should have kept them closed, as Mercedes was doing her best to loom over him-which really was kind of unfair, all things considered-and the look on her face was 120% pissed.

"Hey Mercedes," he said weakly, flashing her his best disarming grin and adjusting his glasses. "What's up?"

"Uh-uh, don't even try it," Mercedes snapped. Artie gulped. "I want to know what you know about _Kurt_ joining the football team."

Artie saw two futures open up in front of him. In one he tried to deny knowing anything until Mercedes wore him down so he inevitably spilled the beans. No good came of that future, so instead he took the coward's route.

"Oh, so you heard. Kurt's the new kicker for the football team," Artie said brightly.

"Of course I heard. What I want to know is where on God's green earth he got the idea in the first place. This is Kurt we're talking about. I love that boy, but he throws a bitch fit if he scuffs his nail. What the hell do you think he's gonna do when he gets his ass busted by some dumbass jock on the football team?"

"Kurt's tougher than you give him credit for," Artie pointed out. "He came to me and asked me how he could join the football team. I told him to talk to Finn."

"Just because Finn's in Glee Club doesn't mean he's going to help out Kurt, Artie," Mercedes tried to explain patiently. "It just gives him the chance to make My Boy a better target."

"You and I both know he's not like that Mercedes," Artie said determinedly, his voice squeaking a little. "Quinn might be a bitch, but Finn's a good guy. Besides," he said with a shrug, "he pulled me out of that port-a-potty. Until proven otherwise, he's all good in my book."

"Fine," she conceded, sitting down at a desk so she was eye level with him. "That still doesn't really explain _why_ he joined up."

Artie rolled his hands against the wheels nervously. "Well, you heard about what happened when Kurt's dad walked in on him, Tina and Brittany making that YouTube video."

Mercedes nodded. "I heard. That still doesn't explain why he smacked Tina on the ass, though. Sounds like he's got a spanking fetish."

"Dude!" Artie cried out. "I do not need to hear about that." Mercedes started laughing. Despite himself, the image of Kurt taking someone over his knee and spanking them filled his head for a second. Having an active imagination sucked big time.

Dawn opened the door to the choir room office and shoved her bag under the desk before making the semi-sprint to the auditorium. She had finally caved, talked to Buffy and found dress shoes in which she could actually run. They really weren't her style, but she could actually move in them.

She entered the auditorium just in time for Tina to begin singing "Tonight, Tonight." _There_ he was. Brad sat at the piano. She had missed him the other day when she had left her conference with Tina, but now there was no doubt he was here-and she _would_ talk to him. Dawn made her way down the steps, moving quietly and trying to stay out of Tina's eye line. Apparently talking to Tina had helped her out; she sounded great.

As the song neared to its close Dawn scurried up onto the stage, standing slightly off angle to the piano and far enough away so she didn't interfere, but still close enough to intercept Brad. Tina stepped forward to deliver her last notes, and as she did the pianist looked up and tensed. Well, it was about time he spotted her.

Dawn waited politely for Tina to finish, and as then moved toward Brad he quickly rose, grabbed the sheet music and walked quickly away. Dawn took off after him, and as she moved forward she heard Tina and Will talking about the song. Yet _another_ thing to worry about later.

Brad moved more quickly than she originally gave him credit. She caught only the occasional glimpse of blond hair as she walked backstage, ducking around the piles of props dumped backstage. She didn't know exactly what the hell Sandy was doing back inside of a school, if he didn't clean up his crap back here he would regret it. The entire backstage area smelled like candle wax, and it was making her stomach hurt.

She managed to klutz her way into tangling into more loosely hanging cloth drapes and barked her shin on another scene frame before she gave in.

"Hey Brad, are you back here? It's Dawn," she added, kind of unnecessarily.

She closed her eyes and focused on her ears. There, off to her right, she heard the shuffle of footsteps. Instead of trying to navigate through the stacks and drapes, she cut through in a very ACME style. To be fair, she didn't leave any Dawn-shaped holes in the scenery, but some of the prop piles looked like a Fyarll had come out to play. As she cleared one last drape and almost clocked herself on a low-flying candelabra, she saw Brad shrugging into his jacket and trying to shoulder a bag near the backstage door.

"Ms. Summers," he said dryly as she ducked into view. "How surprising."

"I thought it might have been," Dawn said lightly. "You know, since you missed out meeting on Monday."

"Oh, we had a meeting? That's odd. All I got was an email telling me to meet you in your classroom."

"A meeting you didn't show up to," Dawn said pointedly, brushing a bit of stray prop fluff off the front of her shirt.

"I had a thing," he said, shrugging. "Just a word of advice, sweet pea, since you're young and all. I am a volunteer; not one of your students. If you would be so kind, don't order me around." Brad snapped his bag closed and turned around. "But if you'll excuse me, I have a _paying_ gig to get to. It's Waikiki Wilddays at Crabhaus.. All drinks half off. Feel free to stop on by."

Brad was already out the door before Dawn registered what the hell he had said to her. She started to sprint toward the door and tripped over another loose drape.

"Asshole!" Dawn groaned, pounding the ground in frustration. She took a moment to untangle herself, fished her cellphone out of her pocket and dialed.

"Hey Emma, what are you doing for dinner tonight?"


	17. Chapter 17

Title: Old Stories (17/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the finale of Glee. None of this belongs to me. Sorry about the long delay folks, this returning student gig gets a little rough. So to make up for that here is a longer chapter after last time's tease.

Dawn Summers woke up in her own bed, in her own bedroom. The fact that this stood out at all would probably prove to be a very bad sign. The supersonic buzzing of the alarm clock seemed to reinforce this; after all, what kind of sane person would put something that made that much noise so close to her own precious eardrums?

When she lifted her arm and turned her head and the world spun en route to shutting off the alarm clock, Dawn knew the answer: a very drunk and very stupid person. Yep, this Thursday had lots of potential.

Much coffee, a handful of aspirin and a shower later and Dawn was actually starting to feel human again. She still had some time before school, so she emptied out her purse and started digging through the debris.

Most of the junk was exactly the junk she expected, but wrapped around her debit card was a receipt for Crabhaus, "Lima's authentic German seafood restaurant." Everything looked pretty normal: two dinners and some drinks (quite a few sea breezes and Shirley Temples, if the abbreviations turned out to be correct). Looking at her watch, she realized she didn't have much in the way of time and calling in wasn't really an option.

She arrived too late to park in the back lot, so Dawn nudged her car into the main faculty parking area, and sunglasses firmly in place she trudged toward the front entrance. Caught up in the wave of last-minute students, she heard a thud and cheers from behind her. When she could safely stop and turn around, a platoon of football players were charging toward the front door of the school and were through before she could think about stopping them. Business as usual.

Her first period class had to count as one of the things she had gotten right in Lima. At 8 a.m. all she and her class wanted to do was stumble through the class with minimal effort. Worksheets and the like were a cheat, but hell, this was McKinley. She didn't have a standardized test, so as long as they didn't burn the classroom down Figgins left her alone. The only bump in the road that morning had to be Santana. The Cheerio wasn't blatantly disrespectful, but the amount of texting she was doing almost made Dawn violate her _laissez__-__faire_ policy for first period.

After two more classes passed at a glacial pace, she had time to break for the coffee machine. As she followed the siren song of caffeine into the teachers lounge, a petite figure seated near the machine made her freeze in her tracks.

Emma sat primly at the table between the door and the coffee maker, dressed in a combination of blue and red that for Emma was positively aggressive. Dawn started to wave a greeting, but the look in Emma's eyes made her pause pre-wave, her absent greeting flash fried to the inside of her mouth.

"Good morning, Dawn," Emma said primly in a tone that brooked no argument. "I need to talk to you in my office."

Dawn considered just for a second making a dash for the carafe but instead sighed. "Sure, Em. Anything you need."

Dawn let Emma lead the way, heals clicking on the linoleum while Dawn shuffled behind. It so felt like being called into the principal's office all over again. She racked her brain for anything that might have worried Emma; hell, _she_ had paid for dinner last night. Emma opened the door to the office, gesturing curtly for Dawn to get inside. Dawn, not being entirely stupid, did as she was told.

As she took her seat, Dawn noticed that Emma had rearranged her pamphlets yet again. Dawn gave up trying to figure out if the arrangement meant anything. Something in the office just smelled off, and before she could look around for a source the hiss of a spray can told her that Emma had taken her newly disinfected seat.

Dawn turned her attention to Emma and found the redhead in full-on counselor mode, hands clasped in front of her on her desk and posture ramrod straight.

"I spoke to Tina this morning," Emma began without preamble, "and among the things she had to say...a big part of them concerned you, Dawn."

"Whoa, whoa," Dawn interrupted. "Should you even be telling me this, Em?"

"By itself, no," Emma admitted. "But Tina brought up something that I've been meaning to talk to you about for a while." Emma sighed. "It's the way you talk to your kids, Dawn. I like you-I really do. But after last night there's no way I can keep avoiding it."

"Last night?' Dawn said, offended. "Look, I know Crabhaus is kind of on the tacky side; I mean, the mascot is a crab in liederhosen. But I told you why we had to go there."

"After the fact," Emma pointed out, shuffling in her seat and readjusting her nameplate. "You didn't tell me you were there to stalk your piano player until we were in the parking lot. Not to mention that you blackmailed me into going inside."

"It wasn't blackmail," Dawn corrected. "It would have been blackmail if I had threatened to call Terri or something."

"True," Emma said icily. "So you manipulated me into thinking that going inside that place-" Emma said the last word with a shudder "-would help out Will and the Glee Club. What you didn't tell me until many drinks later is that the only reason we were there was because you can't write a proper email." Emma pointed at her hair. "Do you know my hair _still_ smells like crab bratwurst? I thought about cutting it all off after rinsing it in Purell." Emma grabbed a strand of said hair and sniffed it for a second before recoiling. "The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I didn't know where the wig would be coming from."

Dawn leaned back as Emma raged, and against her will she did catch a trace whiff of the unholy union of seafood, pork and sauerkraut. Hopefully when Emma calmed down they could deal with the scent issue; for now she needed to focus on getting Emma calm. Call it a hunch, but Dawn figured that being a teacher and having a guidance counselor mad at you would be almost as bad as pissing off the head nurse at a hospital if you happened to be the new doctor. Okay, maybe she had stolen that right from _Grey__'__s__Anatomy__._ But the principle was still solid.

"Emma, I'm sorry," Dawn began. "But I really needed to talk to Brad, and if I did it myself I'd screw it up again. I don't know how I keep doing it."

"I'm not sure how much help I really was Dawn," Emma said. "Halfway through the night when they opened up karaoke, you took over the stage and refused to back down."

Dawn squirmed a little in her seat. She had _really_ hoped that Emma would be too polite or embarrassed to bring that up. Over the course of the latter part of the evening she had been just drunk enough that winning Brad over with music had seemed like a great idea. Crabhaus featured live karaoke, and Dawn had taken full advantage of it. She had been only a little drunk (okay, more than a little, really), but still not nearly drunk enough to excuse what she had done to that poor, inoffensive music.

That's right. Dawn Summers, who couldn't carry a note with a Slayer helping her, had earned a respect for music. It was inevitable, considering her almost daily dealings with the Glee Club. And the stack of CDs they had given her had exposed her to a wide variety of music. Now that she understood the concepts of range and pitch, she actually knew which songs she could perform. Sadly for Brad, Emma and the other patrons of Crabhaus, Dawn went in the opposite direction.

Dawn had, by her own admission, murdered _Holding__out__for__a__Hero_and _Free__Bird_-the latter of which she hoped Giles never found out about. Brad had almost snatched the songbook away from her before she grabbed it for her last performance. Among the well-marked pages she had found a version of _Black__Velvet_ which was so out of her range it would be aggravated cruelty. Brad had flinched a little when Dawn handed him the pages. Before she could approach the stage, a bleach bottled blonde had bowled past her, nearly stabbing her in the foot with four-inch heels. The little blond had pointed to Dawn's song, and to her credit she had knocked the hell out of it.

Too bad the little blonde lost her martinis while hitting the last note, decorating the stage in a glorious finale. _Bitch__._ Dawn had leaned over to Brad, threatening to come back every single night until he decided to play for Invitationals and organize the band kids. Brad had nodded numbly at her, transfixed by the new stage decorations. Once a horrified Emma was collected and her bill paid, Dawn Summers had left the building.

Too bad her triumph hadn't lasted longer than the time it took Emma to drive her home. Which brought Dawn back to Emma's office, squirming in a plastic chair and feeling horrible about her previous actions and saying so.

Her redheaded friend shook her head sadly. "That's the problem, Dawn. You're always sorry and you always mean it, but you keep doing the same things over and over again. I like you, Dawn, but sometimes it's really hard to be your friend. Especially when you drag me to places where the proper way to dispose of peanut shells is to throw them on the floor." Emma gave a slightly convulsive shudder. "I'm used to the bluntness; I work with Sue. But your brand of bluntness is totally different. Do you know you've gotten more complaints about how you talk to your students than Sue has?"

"How the hell is that even possible? Sue uses water-boarding as a trust exercise! There's no way I'm worse than she is."

"At least Sue is consistent," Emma admitted grudgingly. "We may not like how she acts, but she acts the same way to everyone. Speaking as your friend, sometimes I'm not sure where I stand with you. And then there's the way you act toward your kids."

"Maybe I'm too tough in class," Dawn admitted. "But the kids in Glee know I like them and that they can always come to me if they need anything."

"Really?" Emma asked softly. "If that's the case, what happened when you talked to Tina earlier this week?"

"Lets see," Dawn mused while picking up one of Emma's pens and rapidly capping and uncapping it. "I was in my room, waiting on Brad to show up for an appointment. He didn't show, and then Tina knocked and came in and mentioned that she wanted to talk to me about her solo. So as I got ready to talk to her, I heard Brad playing the piano in the auditorium. You know how my room is." Dawn was now twisting the cap around the pen. " I ran out of the room to catch him," -she carefully ignored Emma's wince- "and when I couldn't find him I went back to my room. Tina was looking at a picture of one of my family friends, and she mentioned she liked Willow's books. And then we talked about the solo."

"All right," Emma said softly. "And what exactly did Tina say that her problem was?"

Dawn felt herself pale slightly as the sound of the pen dropping turned into a rain of anvils.

"I suck at this, " she admitted to Emma. "I didn't even give Tina a chance to tell me what her problem was."

"Good." Emma sounded satisfied. "Since you can admit it, the problem can be fixed. Granted, I don't see you going up the down staircase anytime soon. But you're not hopeless."

"Thanks, Em," Dawn said dryly,. "I don't know how to thank you for that."

"Oh, that's easy," Emma said breezily. "Ken invited me to watch the football game on Friday, and you're coming. If I go he won't try to ask me out for two weeks, so I need some company."

"All right, that's fair," Dawn shrugged. "But what's the point of going to a game that we're going to lose anyway?"

"I did mention the two weeks, didn't I? Plus, for what it's worth, the football team seems pretty convinced they can win. Or at least they're convinced of something. They've been on a tear lately."

"I noticed they were a little full of themselves," Dawn commented, shrugging. "I chalked it up to the normal Homecoming bullshit."

"It's some of that, Dawn. But do me a favor and keep an eye out. I've been seeing a lot of my regulars this week, and it's stretching me kind of thin."

Dawn smiled at that as the bell rang. As she rose from her seat, Emma stood to join her. "No problem, Em. I don't mind helping out with jock watch."

Emma raised her eyebrows at Dawn.

"And that didn't come out stalkerish at all," Dawn conceded. "Look, I have to run. But thanks a lot, Em. I'll talk to you later."

Dawn walked out of Emma's office and pulled out her phone to check the time when the happy little envelope let her know that she had a text message. A quick check showed that it was from the Council's research branch. With a shrug she put her phone back in her pocket; after all, there wasn't much she could with it at work.

Tina skulked through the halls as much as her clothes and bright blue hair streaks would let her. Unlike some of the others, she didn't usually have to force her way through the crowd. But she would move in her own little bubble; apparently goth was contagious. She got her fair share of slushies, but sometimes-unlike Kurt-they would pass her over.

Just thinking about that, Tina picked up her pace and hurried toward the choir room. It was the last hiding place of Kurt's she hadn't checked. She opened the doors to find Kurt working through the "Single Ladies" dance steps that had started this whole mess in the first place. Tina slipped inside the door, but one of her chains caught on the knob when she closed it and the rattling broke Kurt out of his current groove. He cut off the speakers.

"S-sorry" she squeaked out, untangling the chain with an embarrassed twist. "Y-you d-didn't have to stop."

"It's no big deal," Kurt said dismissively, grabbing his iPod and smoothing his shirt back into place. "I probably shouldn't even be dancing right now anyway. Coach Tanaka wants me to rest my legs for the game tomorrow."

Tina winced, "S-so you're playing tomorrow? You're s-still going to be on the team after everything they did to you?"

"I don't really have a choice," Kurt admitted. "I've never seen my dad so happy, especially after that little incident last weekend. When I told him I made the team, he actually gave my baby back-_before_ I had finished paying for the window repair. If playing football makes him happy, then I have no reason to complain. It just makes everything easier."

"Y-y-you didn't tell him," Tina said, trying to hide the cold shiver crawling up her spine.

"Tell him what?" Kurt asked with brittle mildness. "That everyone in town is right? That his son is a fairy? I can't do that, T. Ever since my mom died it's been me and him." Kurt shook his head and shouldered his bag, putting on what Tina thought of as his public smile. "Look, I've got to go. But tell you what: keep Saturday free. You, me and Mercedes will go to the spa, get mani-pedis, massages, the works to celebrate my entry into the wide world of sports."

"I-I..." Tina tried to respond, but Kurt had already swept out the door, leaving her alone in the choir room.

"You can't be serious," Dawn muttered with a snort of disbelief as she plopped onto her couch and propped her feet on the coffee table. "After everything I told you about Emma, you really think Philly cheese steaks would be the perfect thing to cook her for dinner? Try to remember that I still want her as my friend after she has dinner with you."

"What?" Xander exclaimed in mock protest, and Dawn could hear the sounds of traffic in his background. "I'll have you know that Philly cheese steaks are a prime piece of Americana."

"Americana?" Dawn scoffed. "Please, all that means is a one-way ticket to a heart attack. I'm sorry, Xan. Tell you what: if you're good, we'll track down some deep-fried Twinkies."

"The sad part of that," Xander admitted, "is how good that sounds. You have no idea how healthy the food is down here."

"You poor baby," Dawn mocked, grinning widely. A small beep from her earpiece made her pull away a moment. "A _whole__month_ without high fructose corn syrup. How did you ever survive?"

"Ha ha. Laugh it up, missy. When I get there I'm throwing your coffee maker away." She wasn't quite sure, but Xander might have been sticking his tongue out at her.

"If you do that, I'm telling Buffy." And yes, she _was_ sticking her tongue out.

"Pulling the Slayer card, huh?" Xander said, laughing. "I thought you were going to save that for something serious."

"Coffee _is_serious." Dawn deadpanned. Her phone beeped again, which was too bad since she was in the middle of a conversation. "Crimes against caffeine aside, do I need to pick you up from the airport?"

"I've got that covered. Faith's letting me take another car out of the motor pool. I should be there on Monday night."

"Awesome. It's going to be good to see you again. I mean...have you there for the performance, of course."

"Oh, of course. The concert," Xander replied quickly. "Maybe if there's time I can take you out to dinner sometime before the concert."

_Time__to__take__the__plunge_, she thought, missing the whir of her printer behind her.

"I think I can work dinner," Dawn said, her smile softening a bit. "Though we have to go shopping afterward. You need some dress clothes for Invitationals."

"That's great, I mean really great," Xander said, stumbling over the words. "Well, maybe not the shopping...but I can deal. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few," he intoned in his most solemn voice.

"Wow, out-of-context _Star__Trek_." A suspicious thought bubbled to the surface. "Please tell me you're not doing 'the salute.' "

"Of course not," he replied, a little too quickly.

"You are such a bad liar," she managed to squeak out before the giggles set in.

She heard a beep in the background and Dawn glared at her printer. "Shit. Hang on a sec, Xander. Something's coming in over the Batphone."

Xander heard Dawn shuffling around, the sound of papers printing and stuff banging around as Dawn "organized." The Batphone, as named by Xander, was a laptop and printer connected to the Council networks to move information quickly. It was probably paperwork from Cleveland, so Xander leaned back on his hotel bed and listened to the Sao Paolo traffic. Dawn kept him waiting for about five minutes (not that he was counting) before he heard breathing on the line again.

"You still there, Xander?" Dawn asked, sounding a little more serious than before..

"Yeah, I'm still here." he said trying to stifle a yawn, "What's up?"

"I just got something over the line and I'm not sure it's even real," Dawn said, sounding worried. "You know how I told you that Lima doesn't have any magic?"

Xander sat up against the headboard. "Yeah, I remember that from the last time I was in town. Why? whats up?"

"I don't know," Dawn admitted. "According to this, one of the Coven Seers was checking magic flows near the Hellmouth. Everything was as crazy as expected until he tried backing out and floated astrally around the area, checking for leaks. It's all pretty standard," Dawn continued. "Magic near a Hellmouth kind of swirls like it's in a drain. Willow and Althenea both say that getting out of the flow can take some serious work."

"That sucks," Xander said noncommittally. "But the seer is fine, right?"

"Oh, he's okay," Dawn muttered absently. "It's just weird when he popped out he popped out close to Lima. He claims that when he popped out he felt someone working magic."

"Isn't that kind of impossible?" Xander asked, clearly confused. "I mean, you fought that vamp without any magic. Which would be kind of stupid if you had some, right?"

"Of course it is," Dawn huffed. "Fighting without magic? That's just asking for trouble. Pain is Buffy's kink, not mine." Dawn thought she heard Xander gasp a little at that last bit.

"Maybe," Xander said doubtfully, his voice a little husky, "but just keep an eye out, okay? I mean, the Seer might have just gotten some static or something. But if someone's really using magic in Lima and you don't know about it, that's pretty serious."

"Xander, if someone were to actually use magic in Lima I'm sure I would feel it. It's not like there's anything to hide it. Without a natural buffer, a spell cast here would expand out fairly quickly."

"Fine, fine. Just be careful. If this little bit of magic is nothing, then it's all good. If not, you know you're going to have to find them." Xander sounded genuinely worried. "Magic in a place like that, things can go places we don't like really quick."

Dawn shook her head, trying to shake out the image of a rundown house and a black-haired Willow. "I don't like where this is heading, Xander."

"I don't either," Xander admitted somberly, "but sometimes it's the only way. If someone near you is causing magic where magic shouldn't be, you might have to take steps."

"_Taking__steps__."_ What a typically Watcher-like way of telling someone to commit cold blooded murder. Unfortunately, Dawn couldn't argue. Willow had been insanely lucky. If they knew now what really could have happened...Well, it was almost a good thing they _didn__'__t_ know what could have gone wrong. Witch hunts were still wrong, of course, but sometimes there was no choice: you did what you had to do. There was a reason Xander lived with Willow part of the year, hoping against hope he didn't have to "take steps."

Dawn's good mood had officially evaporated. She shuffled some papers and looked at her map of Lima, then glanced at her bookshelf. "Hey Xan, I need to go. If this is serious, I have some work to do."

"Yeah, that's a good idea. Take care, Dawnie. Love ya."

"You too, Xan. You too."

Note: I find myself horribly fascinated by the idea of Dawn and Emma at Crabhaus, if that is something you might want to hear more about please let me know in the comments.


	18. Chapter 18

Title: Old Stories (18/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the episode Journey of Glee. None of this belongs to me. As always thanks for reading and commenting. Special thanks to DropEdge.

**12:01 a.m.**

At the sound of the microwave timer, Dawn opened her eyes and groaned. Unless the damn thing had screwed up, it was now officially past midnight. So despite several hours of meditation and seeking, she had failed to find a single trace of magic. This was all well and good for Lima, but it still made her skin crawl; magic just didn't work like that. Most towns, even ones where no practitioners lived, had trace amounts that could be detected. Magically, Lima was a nothing; obviously the Council Seer had been caught up in post-Hellmouth backwash.

Dawn leaned forward, stretching out the kink in her back and rubbing at her knees and thighs. Lotus Position may be great for concentration during rituals, but it never failed that near the end her legs _always_ fell asleep. Dawn's legs now having reached the pins and needles stage of waking up, she leaned over to blow out the two candles she had used as focal points and then staggered to her feet.

As she rose she looked at her bag in the middle of the kitchen table and gave in to temptation as she groaned again. If it wasn't one thing it was another; she had honestly meant to grade those essay tests after talking to Xander. Then all that Watchery stuff had happened.

_No use bitching about it now_, she thought to herself as she prepped a pot of coffee. _You should have finished those yesterday, but instead you went accompanist hunting._ It was now a given that tonight was going to suck. But at least unlike when she had pulled all-nighters at university, she knew how the answers should look.

**3:00 a.m.**

_Essay tests are stupid_, Dawn concluded later as her stack of tests slowly but surely sank toward completion. Most of her kids had done fairly well. As soon as she spotted the key phrases she needed, she graded them appropriately and moved on. Off to one side of the pile was her problem stack: the stack that held every paper with handwriting so bad they proved nearly illegible.

A meaner person than she was would note that a majority of the stack happened to be McKinley High football players, but that was just the caffeine speaking. As she finished up her last "clean" essay and took another sip of her coffee, she took a precious moment to bemoan the fact she had decided against multiple choice.

**5:45 a.m.**

This just wasn't happening. It was almost sunrise and she had to be hallucinating. After all, there was no conceivable way every football player, including Finn and Noah freaking Puckerman, had earned A's on her essay exam. Dawn wasn't out to get them-and it sure as hell wasn't favoritism-but no matter how much she checked, every member of the team had aced her exam. It was too widespread to be cheating, but that was the only thing that came to mind. If anybody had managed to get a copy of her test and pass it around, heads would roll.

Dawn looked away from the pages and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had to attempt to calm down. If she went into school this upset, she would be worthless to the point she couldn't get to the bottom of what was happening. Obviously there had to be some sort of team-wide cheating operation.

Unfortunately for them, Dawn had stumbled across a semi-provable example. What she should do with this information remained undecided. Her educator purist side wanted to rush into Figgins's office and start demanding justice, but a smaller wanted to Sherlock the situation. She was probably too tired and not thinking anything close to rationally.

It really wasn't hard to believe she might be overreacting, thanks to her most recent combination of stress and lack of restful sleep. Dawn needed a second set of eyes: eyes that weren't in the direct pipeline to authority, which ruled out Emma. Dawn couldn't go to Ken because of his obvious interest in the matter, so her only choice for a second opinion was Will.

It worked out, really; he still considered himself her mentor, so she would let him earn the privilege. She stretched, stifling a yawn. Dawn really needed a nap, but given the time she would have to settle for a morning work out. Even as she grabbed her work out bag, she still hadn't quite convinced herself of Buffy's old standby theory that endorphins had to be healthier for her in the long run than an hour of sleep.

**7:30 a.m.**

Endorphins weren't quite doing the trick as Dawn sagged into her desk chair, wrapped around another cup of coffee. She had spent an hour doing her normal work out routine, and between that and the all-nighter every sip was giving her a microjolt of energy that was quickly squandered by moving a little. That was enough self-pity; she could always curl into a ball later. For now she had business to take care of.

She took out her folder of tests for what seemed like the hundredth time. Taking out the football players' exams, she set them on her desk and began shuffling through the names. In the end it would come down to pressure: someone she could manipulate a little if necessary. Even as she considered this she had withdrawn two papers: Finn's and Puck's. She could get the information out of either of them, of course; it was just a matter of how low she wanted to go.

The brief idea of the way Puck followed her around gave her an idea, but that was too sleazy for the moment. Not when she had a better angle on Finn.

**9:30 a.m.**

The bell rang at the end of second period, and as the class began to shift she saw Finn hitting Puck to wake him up. She let the mohawked boy slouch out of the room, but before Finn could catch up she spoke up.

"Hey, Finn," she said in a professionally cheery manner, "can I talk to you for a sec?"

She might have missed the way he stiffened when she called his name if she hadn't been actively looking for it.

"Sure, Ms. S.," he replied, shrugging his backpack into place. "Uhmm, what about my next class?"

"It's no problem. I'll write Mr. Schue a note." She nodded toward a chair in front of her desk. "Grab a seat."

He complied, though he did gulp a little before attempting to disguise it as a cough. She let Finn take a seat before crossing behind his chair toward a cabinet and grabbing an orange and a pocketknife from inside. Finn jumped a little when she shut the cabinet with a slight bang before crossing back behind him and taking her seat behind the desk. The chair she had chosen was just a little on the short side for Finn, and he shifted as Dawn worked the tip of the knife under the orange's navel and began to peel the fruit.

"I'm glad we can talk, Finn," she said, twisting the knife so a large section of peel fell onto her desk. "I was grading the essay tests from Monday last night, and when I got to your test something strange happened."

"Ms. Summers, I can totally explain," Finn said hurriedly, his face full of undisguised panic. "Last week was mad crazy, and I know I should have studied more. But there's been so much stuff going on. With Glee and football I had, like, no time. And I know it's not an excuse, but please. I'll do anything to make this grade up."

That didn't make any damn sense. She had to press on; he might be acting.

"Finn, don't worry about it," she said reassuringly, even as she began to peel the next section. "I'm sure you'll be more than happy to explain this grade to your mom."

"Not my Mo-oohm," Finn groaned, slumping back in his chair as the very picture of teenage angst. "If I bring home another failing grade, she won't let me drive for a month."

"That's good to hear," Dawn said, her smile not changing, "since you get to tell her you got an A on this test. For the first time, if I'm not wrong "

"Seriously?" Finn sighed as his entire body slumped in relief. "That's great, Ms. Summers. I don't know how to thank you."

"No need to thank me, Finn. I'm just glad you got some help, especially given everything you're going through right now," Dawn replied smoothly, the orange now peeled and quartered. She set half of it on a little napkin and held it over her desk toward Finn. "Orange?"

Finn took the fruit absently and began to chew. Apparently something occurred to him while chewing and he decided to speak-while still chewing.

"Thanks for being so understanding, Ms. S. I've been really worried about my grades lately, and then there's the other stuff," Finn said quickly as Dawn repressed a very Emma-like urge to squirm as a bit of fruit flew into the air. "I mean, Mr. Schue must have told you about what's going on with me and Quinn."

Dawn just nodded encouragingly.

"Man, that's a relief," Finn sighed. Dawn sensed a ramble ensuing and popped an orange slice into her mouth. "It's not like I can go to my mom about this. I mean, she's cool and all, but this is a lot. I thought about going to Ms. Pillsbury, but she freaks out at, like, little piles of dirt." He squirmed in his chair and stared down at his hands, his voice dropping. "I don't even know how she would handle the whole Quinn and me having a baby thing."

Dawn almost choked on the little slice of orange. _That_ had not been the admission she was expecting. At least five different comebacks flashed through her mind, but the look of mingled woe and relief on Finn's face froze the snark somewhere in her throat around the orange slice. Dawn swallowed both down and turned to regard the kid. Well, hell. He really wasn't a kid anymore.

Finn was tall, kind of goofy, and truth be told reminded her a little bit of Xander. Well, except without Xander's smartass mouth-which in fairness was probably a good thing. No, Dawn decided, Finn was a good kid. Confused as hell, yeah, but he probably wasn't the mastermind.

Dawn cleared her throat and tossed the remnants of the peel in the trash. "Thanks for breakfast, Finn," she said, indicating the bits of orange remaining on the napkin. She scratched out a quick note and handed it to Finn. "You better get to class." Finn had just made it to the door when Dawn stopped him one last time. "Hey Finn, do you know where Puck is?"

"Umm..." He scratched his head for a second. "I think he's got math right now."

"Ah, nurse's office, then," Dawn said, nodding to herself. "Have a good day, Finn. I'll see you in Glee. For what it's worth, if you need to talk you can add me to the list of people willing to listen."

Finn smiled shyly at her and waved before rushing out the door toward Will's room.

**09:54 am**

Dawn watched Nurse Millie totter down the hall toward her promised smoke break. Dawn peaked inside the room to see Puck still crashed out on the sorry excuse for a nap bed. His legs dangled so far over the edge that they might as well have rested on the floor. At least he managed to sleep on his back; though the snoring was really off-putting. Snores or not, he was her next-best source of information. Dawn took a second to check her reflection.

She was in her usual work attire of dress slacks and blouse. While the outfit was practical, it wasn't really that seductive - except maybe in a ZZ Top kind of way. She took a moment to tighten some tucks, fluff out her hair and (most importantly) loosen some important buttons. It was last-minute, but it should be enough to interest a 16 year old; if not, there was plenty of linoleum around to do the trick. Debra LaFave had nothing on her - if this little stunt didn't end up with her in jail, of course.

She tried for a saunter over to the table to get in character, but her flats turned the planned saunter into a sad little shuffle. Eventually she reached the bed and leaned in close to its occupant, shamelessly putting her breasts into Puck's potential eye level. _Come on, Dawn_, she told herself. _You've watched Faith and Buffy slut it up for years. You ought to be able to do it at least once without fucking it up._

She swallowed one last time. Hoping the infirmary didn't have anything in the way of incriminating cameras, she took the plunge.

"Noah," she whispered warmly in the sleeping boy's ear. "Noah, it's time for you to wake up. Come on, Puck. Rise and shine."

In response Puck attempted to roll his ear away from her voice, rolling his head and his mouth onto her other hand - coating the back of her hand with what felt like a light smear of drool. Nice...

She sighed in frustration and attempted to move his ear back to mouth level, but the kid's head was a lot heavier than she thought it was. Amazingly, all the tugging and rocking didn't wake up the little bastard. Finally settling on his hair as a handhold that wouldn't cause too much damage. Dawn grabbed his mohawk (somewhat greasy from whatever hair product he used) and jerked Puck's head back to its original state; she did take the time to wipe her drool-inflicted hand on the bedsheets as soon as she could.

With his head back in the proper position, she leaned back to ear level and crooned in his ear again. This time she followed the crooning with a light pinch to his ear. He still didn't respond except to exhale sharply with the rank scent of chew tobacco. _Bugger this!_ "Puck, wake up or you're going to be very sorry," she murmured, channeling a little bit of her inner Spike. In her irritation, she might have pinched his ear a bit more harshly then necessary.

Dawn had time enough to pull her head back, thus avoiding an inconvenient concussion. This was getting disgustingly complicated. She was pretty sure Faith didn't have to deal with this sort of rubbish when she tried to seduce people. Granted, if Faith seduced you rumor had it you still knew it the morning after. Puck, stirring again, snapped her out of her self-analysis and she shifted to a squatting position, which emphasized her modest chest. She was going to bathe in bleach after this was done.

"Ms. Summers?" he asked sleepily, scratching his head and massaging his ear. "What are you doing here?"

"I think you know why I'm here, Noah," she murmured in her best sex kitten purr, if only that kitten didn't sound like it was trying to hack up a hairball.

Puck wrinkled his brow slightly in confusion then glanced around the room. Once he confirmed that the room was indeed empty, his gaze swept back toward Dawn. Something about her - or one of the floor tiles - made him break out in a self-satisfied smirk. Puck didn't say anything beyond a pleased grunt; he just swiveled around on the ratty bed and swung his legs over the side.

In response Dawn shifted a little, taking in deeper breaths. Part of her knew she should have gotten to her feet and stalked over to him to start twisting the information out of him. Another quieter, secret part of her insisted she not get off her knees. She shouldn't even be here. She should have found another way. But here he was looming over her, and her she felt her knees get weaker.

Puck reached down, grabbing her arm and yanking her to her feet. On the way up she missed no less than three chances to break his kneecap, give him a groin shot, or if all else failed the old standby: scream for help. Instead she curled into him. It felt good and automatic. Wrapped in his embrace, she leaned into the warmth of his body like a cat into a heating grate. The way he moved didn't feel like a threat; it felt safe, comfortable.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure I know," Puck growled low in his throat, and she couldn't stop the shiver that went down her spine "I just want to hear _you_ say it," he paused with an obscene leer on his face, _"Ms. Summers."_

She felt a warm pulse travel down her spine when he said her name, and she pressed herself more firmly against him. Her chin rested on his strong shoulders, and she turned her head slightly to whisper in the man's (boy's) ear.

"It all depends, Puck," she purred smoothly, accenting his name with a very firm roll of her hips into his. "Do you want to be a good boy?" She drew her head back a little, looking into his eyes, and her head swam. "No," she said decisively. "I'm going to have to make you stay, _after school_" she followed this with another quick roll of her hips. The words flowed smoothly from her lips.

The room felt so warm now. Her clothes felt tight in all the right places, and from the flushed look and smile on his face Puck was in no mind to complain about it. She started to lean back, but his hands on her ass made her pause and her mouth felt dry before she leaned in to him again. Judging from the feel of things, Puck had a lot to smile about.

She glanced over his shoulder, not quite believing what she was doing in the middle of a crowded school. But as Puck's hands skimmed along her back, she realized there was nothing to worry about. He was so solid, so _there_. Puck just radiated a bold confidence, and as he held her she felt all her fears and objections melt away.

Everything, that is, except a little bit of something in the back of her mind doing spastic jumping jacks trying to gain her attention.

Puck used his hand to gently cup her face toward his, and where his hand touched her skin it felt almost electric.

"I always thought your eyes were blue," he mused almost to himself, and all she could do was watch his lips. "But in this light they're, like, really green."

She started to correct him, but instead she decided she wanted to shut him up. Screw the rules: if she was going to be naughty, she was going to go for it. She leaned up, moving her lips closer to Puck's. His breath smelled so sweet and she took a deep breath, trying to capture as much of it as she could. She stood on her toes moving for his mouth, wanting to taste him, even as her mind screamed at her...

When a loud mechanized voice broke into the room,

_**"What in the name of Bill Clinton's defiled stogie is going on here?"**_

Dawn pushed herself away from Puck, shoving against him so quickly that the younger - dear gods, he was _ten years younger_ - boy stumbled backwards. Her own head spun again and she lost her balance, falling to the floor on her ass. Fighting the dizziness and swallowing the bile rising in her throat as she tired to clear away the smell _and taste _of dip tobacco, she turned her head in disbelief toward the infirmary door.

Standing there outlined in the sudden brightness from the hallway like a polyester avenging angel lowering her megaphone was Sue Sylvester. Dawn didn't have time to feel ashamed as the bile rose up again and she half stumbled to the small attached bathroom. She had just enough time to get her head over the toilet before a large spike of pain in her head made everything go green. 


	19. Chapter 19

Title: Old Stories (19/?)  
Author: Rokwynd  
Rating: M for language  
Pairings: Canon Pairings for Glee and Xander/Dawn for Buffy.  
Fandoms: Glee/Buffy  
Summary:Lima has no magic: the high school's hierarchy involves student slushies; the cheer coach reminds her of a demon; and her own mystical origins reappear. Dawn Summers is seeking Lima's missing magic; can she find something for the Glee club to sing about?  
Notes: Spoilers for all 7 seasons of Buffy and up to the episode Journey of Glee. None of this belongs to me. As always thanks for reading and commenting. Special thanks to DropEdge.

10:10 a.m.

When her vision cleared, Dawn was still on her knees in front of the toilet. Another wave of nausea struck as she hurriedly flushed what was apparently everything she had eaten since the Mac Pi 100 she had attended back in Rome. She disposed of another offering to Commodus and risked raising her head a little more before starting to take stock.

Unsurprisingly, her body ached as though she had been run over by a large truck; somehow, her head was even worse off. Her eyes started to adjust to the near dark of the nurse's office bathroom. She must have forgotten to shut the door because once she got past her immediate misery, she heard voices raised in argument outside the door.

Eventually she would have to deal with, well, _whatever_ it was out there she had to face. Right now all she wanted was to clean out her hair as best she could. It might have been seductive at one point, but now it was just damp and she had no urge to examine that any closer than she had to.

_It's now or never Summers_, she thought as she braced one hand on the little sink and another on the toilet tank, disturbing a crumbling potpourri bowl. Once she actually stood her legs held up and she let go of the tank before fumbling open the taps on the sink. Over the flow of the water she could hear someone yelling outside the door about the benefits of manual castration.

Dawn stared at the sink and popped the tab that made the stopper catch. It soon filled with water just the side of lukewarm. She reached automatically for her purse before remembering she had left it in her classroom, so she made do with her fingers. She didn't think too closely about what she was doing; she just went through the motions of straining her hair and applying the industrial hand soap to the worst spots while rubbing it in. Just like cleaning up after a battle: nothing to worry about.

After she was sure the worst of the damage was fixed, she washed her hands. Still looking down, she cupped some water to rinse the worst of the taste out of her mouth. She should have been paying better attention to her rinsing. The traces of soap weren't much of an improvement, but it was better than whatever had died in her mouth.

She pulled her hair back away from her face, letting the wet parts fall across her back. Amazingly, she still had the hair tie she had been wearing earlier in her pocket and thus shoved her hair into a rough ponytail. The sounds of arguing had quieted somewhat. She looked up at the mirror, and what she saw made her start as a new wave of nausea kicked in. _My eyes shouldn't glow like that_, she thought distractedly.

Part of her knew she should really be more worried about the fact her eyes were reflecting the light coming in from the ajar door in a steady green glow. It wasn't overly bright: more like a cat's eyes or really bad photography. Right now it was just a minor detail. It was sad when her eyes glowing like a character in one of Andrew's crazy anime cartoons was low on her list of immediate concerns.

The voices outside had stopped, and for an irrational second Dawn thought about hiding in the closet until everything went away. Instead she wiped at her face with a paper towel to repair the worst of the make-up damage. If she was going to go down, at the least she could look presentable. She allowed herself the luxury of a deep breath before she turned to the bathroom door and opened it all the way to face her fate.

The nurse's office was surprisingly empty. No police were on hand, Figgins wasn't standing there demanding her resignation, and (blessedly) there was no sign of Puck. The office showed little sign that the boy, very much a boy, had been there at all besides the bed's slight rumpling. She deliberately turned away from the bed and faced the hallway.

Dawn recognized shock when she felt it; there really was no better lesson than being the guest of honor at your own ritual sacrifice. She followed the same routine Willow and Anya had taught the Potentials during the last days of Sunnydale and beyond. Wrapping her arms around herself, she took deep, calming breaths and tried to focus on nothing. It really was, like Anya had said so long ago, meditation for the eternally fucked up.

Dawn unwrapped her arms when she noticed that the top two buttons of her blouse were still undone. She quickly redid them and stepped forward into the hallway where students were moving past. A few gave her odd looks and Brittany waved, but otherwise nobody reacted to her disheveled state.

She was starting to wonder if things had actually happened. For a moment she embraced the delusion until Sue rounded the corner, caught Dawn's gaze and jerked her thumb in the direction of Sue's office.

10:40 a.m.

Sue's office was silent as Dawn huddled in the plastic chair arms on her knees, hands clasped together. She could feel Sue's gaze judging and evaluating her, and Dawn could focus only on the single pair on nonharsh, nonmetallic objects in the room. At the very front of Sue's desk sat two plastic female cheerleader figurines, hand painted in red and white.

The two figures were in the pantomime of wholesome cheer, pom poms raised; even the blob of paint near one of the feet of the cheerleaders was endearing. The two figures were a small eye of innocence in the hurricane that was Sue Sylvester, and right now Dawn clung to that innocence and mentally wrapped it around herself.

"Summers," Sue mused breaking the silence, "even though watching you stare into space is entertaining as hell, I'm tempted to put on a Cure album, leave a razor blade on the desk and let nature take its course. Normally to get my daily allotment of self-loathing I have to flip on the spycam in the girl's bathroom closest to the cafeteria after lunch time. Yet your little stunt today will keep me gorged for a solid month." Sue leaned back in her chair with a shrug. "Maybe I should have left you and Puckerman to whatever it was that you had planned."

"Planned?" Dawn blurted out, shocked. "T-There was no 'planned.' The whole mess was like the polar opposite of planned. Hell, even chaos is too good a term for what happened in there."

"Really?" Sue's replied, with the added bonus of a skeptical eyebrow. "I hate to say it, but I'm almost disappointed about that. I too know the hot, sweaty appeal of hooking up with a supposed bad boy and having him write a song about you. Inevitably the same mascara wearing son of a bitch slaps you with an NDA and some other hussy is in a white dress spinning circles on a cliff side. Meanwhile you're in South Coatesville diluting your already cut-rate boilermaker with your own tears and mucus, hoping that the limey tart falls and drags them both to a well-deserved death."

"Umm..." was all the response Dawn could muster in her current state of mind. "Sue," she said slowly and with emphasis, "there was no such thing as bad boy appeal, or anything else you can think of. Definitively not any kind of passion. I was just trying to get some information and things got out of control."

"Naturally," Sue conceded, the she smiled wickedly at Dawn. "Just between us girls, did you get a chance to find out if Puckerman eats enough fruit?"

"Sue!" Dawn objected over another wave of nausea, her face hot. "How the hell can you even say that?"

"Right, because _talking_ about it is worse than what you actually did." Sue rolled her eyes "Now talk. The statute of limitations expires in 20 years. I don't want to have to sit here that long."

Dawn conceded defeat. Maybe if she explained things from her point of view, the plan wouldn't sound as crazy as it turned out to be. After some quick editing her story was thus: She spent last night late on the phone, forgot about the essays until late, then graded them. When she saw the team papers she asked Finn since he was the quarterback. She did leave Finn's impending fatherhood out of the deal; she wasn't about to toss two civilian kids under the bus to get out of her own troubles.

Sadly, even edited, when she started actually talking about her not-so-much a plan out loud she realized that said plan made insane troll logic sound Nobel-worthy. The choicest bit in the insult-to-injury ratio had to be when Sue stopped Dawn right before she was about to recall talking to Puck so Sue could pop a bowl of popcorn. Even she had to admit the fact Sue used an air-popper instead of a microwave was a nice touch.

She told Sue about her intent to just question Puck, and as she tried to explain things out loud her treacherous mind started to really wake up and analyze what had happened. Every carefully considered word she shared with Sue had to go through her mental filters, after all. When she got to the point of describing how she ended up on the floor, things seemed to slip. She made it through the telling and the crunching of popcorn, but anytime she tried to elaborate on her actions all she had was a pathetic, "I don't know, Sue."

Eventually she finished, leaving Sue with nothing more unusual than a teacher's attempted fake seduction of a student becoming the real thing. Oh yeah, she was totally screwed. Maybe Giles would let her claim the charges for the barrister as something that took place in the line of duty. It might work; after all, they let Willow get away with it after that one time with the stripper in Tijuana. The stripper had been a demon, though...Yep, she was hosed.

"Do you know why you're still here, Summers?" Sue asked softly, cutting into Dawn's panicked introspection.

"You wanted some extra time to torture me before I became cell mates with Big Bettie?" Dawn speculated bitterly.

"It was a tempting thought," Sue admitted, "but sadly no. You are way more useful to me here instead of starring in some MSNBC weekend prison documentary. After all, you can't owe me a favor if you get carted off to prison, can you?"

"A favor?" Dawn asked. She had to have heard that wrong.

"A big favor," Sue clarified. "Keeping you out of the hoosegow is a favor you may never be able to repay, and personally, I love that."

"But I'm a screw up, you keep telling me that" Dawn argued back hastily. "You don't want me around, even if I owe you one."

"Granted, you almost let a sixteen year old bang you like a blowup doll. But you were out of your depth. You weren't playing to your strengths." Sue shook her head, "No,you have a finely crafted, if naive, brain. One day, Summers, I'll figure out what exactly you're doing in Lima instead of someplace with more academic potential.".

"For now," Sue continued, smiling, "it's going to be far more entertaining to watch you try to wiggle out from under my thumb. I think that if you spend enough time in this town, that big brain of yours is going to go to waste. Until that day, I want it at my disposal."

"So what do you want?" Dawn asked doubtfully.

"For now?" Sue snorted. "Nothing. Or, more accurately, I want you out of my office. After that I really couldn't give a damn. The way I see it, the longer you blunder around the better off I am. So go. Shoo. You have that group of tone deaf future petty criminals to manage. I have a pep rally to execute."

Dawn got to her feet. Threats asides this was her best chance to get out unscathed. Later she could figure out what to do about it. There was always later. _Damn the foresight; full speed ahead to hindsight_ a rough, voice husky from cigarettes mocked her in the back of her mind as she turned to close the office door. His voice, after all this time? She needed a nap, or at least some quiet time to think. Her free period had been eaten up by Sue, so if she took a quick nap at lunch she might have time to think during Glee. It wouldn't be much, but if she let Will run things for the hour she might have time to figure out what was going on.

11:15 am

The group of stoners hanging out around the corner made a gap for Tina as she cleared the corner of the main building leaving the cafeteria and its outdoor annex behind her. It really was getting too cold to eat outside, and the arm warmers were doing their best; but soon she would have to cave and bust out the long-sleeved shirts. She passed another group of stoners and froze, hugging the wall. Puck and Santana were pressed up right next to the auditorium door in what looked like a heavy make out session. She ducked around an air conditioning unit, careful to crouch low behind the pipes.

Now what the hell was she supposed to do? It was getting harder and harder to break away from Artie and the others at lunch. The spell she had cast still needed a lot of work, and it seemed like every day she found a new interpretation of the spell online and spent a good part of her lunch and free periods adjusting the spell. If only her still-somewhat-newfound friends weren't so observant about how she spent her time. On one of her trips back she had discovered the perfect cover; Tina started to fake a smoking habit.

It made perfect sense, McKinley didn't have a good ramp to help Artie get around the stairs, so he couldn't chase her down. Kurt and Mercedes wouldn't follow her to protect their clothes and voices from any damage her so-called habit might cause. She had even swiped an almost-empty pack of her Mom's menthol's to have a prop just in case. Nobody would question why the local goth girl had matches if she was a smoker.

Speaking of Kurt, he had better wise up and do what he needed to do soon. Keeping the spell up was a hassle time-wise, and all this running around was starting to get exhausting. Plus, Rachel had seen the cigarettes in Tina's bag yesterday during Glee. While she hadn't ratted out Tina, what with Rachel being Rachel, an intervention was surely in the works.

The casing on which she leaned began to vibrate and she scrambled for her cigarette. She really didn't like the taste, but she had to burn one long enough to cover up the smell from all the crap for the ritual. She had just managed to light the cancer stick when she heard voices raised in argument from the general direction of the auditorium doors.

"Come on, babe. You can't leave me like this," Puck whined to his make-out partner. "Are you sure you can't help me out at all? you know I can't play like this."

"Like I care," Santana shot back, and Tina could easily imagine the eye roll. "There's no way I'm getting on my knees for you out here. If I get mud stains on my uniform this close to a pep rally, Coach Sylvester is going to kill me." Tina peaked around the unit to see Santana shrug.

"Suck it up, Puckerman. I'd rather leave you with blue-balls than risk that. Think about it this way, stud: it'll give you something to look forward to if you win the game. If it bothers you that bad, I'm sure you can talk that little fairy Hummel into helping you out."

"Don't even bring that little fag up," Puck groused and shifted his letter jacket back on as he shifted his backpack. "He's just another reminder of how much this week sucks. First Coach tells me I can't toss him into the dumpster because he high kicked his way onto the team. Then Summers gives me the cock-tease from hell, only to have Sylvester come in and try to cut my balls off."

"Deal with it, babe," Santana said with no actual sympathy. "You keep talking about Summers hitting on you, but I think all she did was catch you playing pocket pool in class. Hey,if we win tonight I think I can get Brittany to come along. After all, you and Finn wouldn't shut up about how you guys were going to win the game tonight. I want to see you score a touchdown just to wipe that smug grin off Quinnie-pooh's face."

"Good to know you're not jealous, " Puck said, striding forward. Tina ducked back, crouching small. "But If you can get Brittany to play along, I'll do anything you want."

"Of course you will," Santana replied smugly, walking ahead of Puck and putting a little hip action into making her skirt bounce more than usual. When Puck passed her, trailing after Santana, Tina felt a little dizzy and stubbed her cigarette out before trying to unclench her hands.

Tina stayed crouched for another minute until she was sure she would be alone. Once she got to the auditorium backstage door, she fumbled around for the loose brick and removed the spare key she had found backstage after Mr. Ryerson had gone on one of his rampages. The lady he had brought in from Cleveland to do the costumes had stormed out, and Tina had snatched up the key when the frustrated woman threw the key at the doors before storming off to her car.

Tina turned the key in the lock and ducked inside. Backstage was still a maze of props and backdrops, and she took her now-familiar route through the chaos, already reaching for the dried herbs and candles in the very bottom of her bag. The jar of St. John's Wort extract almost dropped out of her hands as she fumbled through a wardrobe rack to her own little alcove. With the way everything was disorganized backstage, it wasn't hard to hide all of her activity as more stuff for the _Cabaret_ production.

Tina dropped to her knees in the middle of the chalk circle she had drawn and kept adding to. The little votive candles she had brought in this morning had burned down more quickly than yesterday, so she must be doing something right. All the boards online said that when she had the power right, she would see results. If the new website was right, she would be able to use the herbs to anchor the effects - and hopefully she wouldn't have to check in on the spell so often.

She laid her tools in front of her as she chanted, redrawing the circle around her with the chalk but not closing it completely. Someone had said that was the way to ensure the spell was more effective. She put the candles in their rune-places, the design meant to evoke confidence and decision-making. It had started out as a simple spell using just a sea shell and a candle. But the longer it took to work on Kurt, the more elaborate it got.

Gripping her _athame_ (one of her mom's silver steak knives), Tina set the candles alight with the match. Speaking her spell in a low whisper, she lit all four of the candles surrounding her and wafted the herbs into each candle's smoke. She wasn't exactly sure about this step, as nobody on the boards had specified which candle and herb went together.

The game was tonight Tina, and by extension Kurt didn't have much time left; she had to try everything. She fell into the rhythm of the chant, slipping the new key phrases into the flow as smoothly as she knew how. It wasn't like constantly switching between Latin and English was easy, and that was before reminding herself not to stutter. As she chanted she heard her phone's alarm beep and began to speed up her chanting while doing what they told her by casting out her mind with the circle open.

She felt it then: the little surge of power for which she had been hunting for. She didn't know how to describe it except that it was warm and kind of intense. It let her shape the spell and cast it into the circle in half the time she had expected. One particularly strong pulse forced her eyes open, which put her face to face with the green candle flames.

She bit back a curse when she flinched and her wanna-be _athame_ slipped in her hands, cutting her palm. Tina reached for her bag just outside the circle, trying not to sprinkle too much blood inside. Her gloves were inside the bag, and along with some band-aids they should take care of covering up the cut. The candles were still burning green as she tried to wipe up the blood drops and hold onto that strange power surge. This was why she kept trying: this strange something she felt. It was better than the times they had sleepovers and broke into their parent's liquor cabinets. This was influence; this was power; _this was getting things done._

Her head spun a bit when she brushed one of her runes and the power slipped out of her grasp. It was always like a that: a brief surge that pumped up the spell and then a sudden breeze that blew out the candles out. Tina heard voices from inside the auditorium and rushed to throw everything she had unpacked back into the bag, draping a stage tarp over her circle. If she was lucky she would have just enough time to fix up her hands and still get to Glee on time..


End file.
